


Bad Apple

by Multiple_Universes



Series: Bad Boy Yuuri Katsuki AU [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: 24/7 Eros Yuuri Katsuki, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst, Blood and Violence, F/F, Fluff, Flustered Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Organized Crime, Sarcasm, Sarcastic Sex, Smut, bad boy Yuuri Katsuki, everyone is still a skater, explicit because of chapter 59, gangster Mila Babicheva, gangster Phichit Chulanont, gangster Sara Crispino, gangster Yuuri Katsuki, lovestruck Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-12-15
Packaged: 2018-10-18 15:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 60
Words: 165,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10619574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multiple_Universes/pseuds/Multiple_Universes
Summary: Yakov knew lectures were meaningless with Victor. He was no longer a figure of authority as far as Victor was concerned. There was only one person Victor really listened to now.Yakov scowled.Yuuri Katsuki.Who gave him the right to barge in and conquer the heart of Russia’s greatest skater like he did? He always thought that Victor would find someone clingy who would be smitten with him and hang on his every word. He never expected it to be the other way around, even if he was as innocent as a child.When Yuuri wasn’t around all Victor talked about was Yuuri. When Yuuri was there everyone else became background detail.Yuuri was no good. A bad influence. Everyone could see that. People walking past him in the street could see that: the boy insisted on wearing leather and looking like a delinquent. Scandal followed him everywhere and he picked fights with everyone. What was Victor doing withhim?Apart from the obvious.An AU were Yuuri is a very sarcastic bad boy and Victor is his very flustered and innocent coach.





	1. A Commemorative Photo?

**Author's Note:**

> I think this idea came to me after seeing a picture of Yuuri in a leather jacket. Several weeks later my brain sort of went “bad boy Yuuri, you have to write that! It will be funny!” as if I don’t have enough ideas already.
> 
> Edit: there is now a music playlist for this fic. You can see it [here](http://witharthurkirkland.tumblr.com/post/170444881388/here-it-is-at-last-the-bad-apple-playlist-i).

A loud revving sound made people turn around to see Yuuri Katsuki speed by on a motorcycle, the helmet over his head covering his face and keeping skating fans in the crowds from recognizing him. Very few among them would believe that the young man in a leather jacket with studs and a faded pair of jeans was the same one who’d skated the most lyrical programs of the season.

Contrary to story conventions Yuuri Katsuki wasn’t going to reflect on the past as he rode away from the Grand Prix. He wasn’t really thinking about anything, merely enjoying the sensation of going over the speed limit.

It hadn’t been a good season thus far for Yuuri. He’d made it to the Grand Prix Final only to end up in sixth place. He’d had a big fight with his coach Celestino over some snot-faced fan that wanted his autograph that he’d flipped off. _Idiots_. And then when he was on his way out he’d caught the gold medalist’s eye.

_“A commemorative photo? Sure.”_

So Yuuri had told him what he could do with his commemorative photo.

Celestino would’ve given him an earful for that for sure. Good thing he hadn’t followed Yuuri out.

Yuuri groaned. It was no good. Now he _was_ reminiscing like some goddamn hero from some stupid novel or movie.

Whatever. At least he wasn’t cursed with a conscience.

Maybe it _was_ time to retire. He’d made many enemies over the years and they were all determined to make his life hell if he returned next season. And no one wanted to be his coach, anyway. He was the most rebellious skater of them all, but even he had to admit that he couldn’t compete without a coach.

“What a load of –” He turned into another street.

It was time to go home. After a five year absence he wondered if the street gangs still remembered him. Oh the old people all thought Hasetsu was a quiet, model town. None of them suspected that Japan’s top skater did a bit of dealing on the side whenever he had the chance. That’s not to mention all of the fights he got into on a regular basis.

And he’d finally see his family. Oh joy. There had been a time when he’d be greeted by his dog as well. His dog, who wouldn’t go anywhere near anyone who wasn’t a member of the Hasetsu family, had passed away while he was gone. By all accounts there had been a fight between several dogs he hadn’t won.

Yuuri suspected that he’d go the same way. He _wanted_ to go the same way. No boring death at a decrepit old age in a bed for him. He was going down covered in someone else’s blood and a knife or gun in his hands and preferably more than one.

Why did he need skating at all?

Because the thrill of jumping a quad in his mind was the same as the thrill he got when he got into a risky fight and came out on top.

Damn that Celestino and his morals!

The airport was coming up ahead and pretty soon he’d have to return his rental motorcycle.

He could always stay in Sochi and join a local gang. But, then again, he didn’t even speak Russian, so maybe that wasn’t such a good idea after all.

Home it was then, but first – Detroit to pick his things up.

 

The train ride to his hometown was as dull as Yuuri had remembered it. He couldn’t wait to see the people in the streets turn away from him. Sometimes it felt as if the whole town knew about his illegal activities. He amended that thought mentally: _most_ of the town with the very important exception of his parents, of course (and some of the naïve aforementioned old people). To them he was still their pride and joy, the good boy, nice and sweet Yuuri Katsuki who wouldn’t hurt anyone and he was perfectly happy to let their blissful ignorance continue.

Why didn’t he go back to visit them earlier?

The reminder was waiting for him at the station.

“Yuuri!” Minako called out and he cursed under his breath.

“Morning, Minako. You didn’t need to come.”

“Of course I did!” she exclaimed and grabbed him by the arm as soon as he came up to her. “All these years and finally you’re home!”

He tuned out her prattling during their walk home. It was either that or throttling her, but that wasn’t an option he was willing to explore with his parents so close.

“It’s such a shame you left your coach and dropped out for the rest of the season,” her voice cut in, determined to torture Yuuri. “I could’ve come to watch you compete.”

“Do you still have a crush on whatever-his-name-is?”

“Victor Nikiforov, Yuuri! He’s a five time Grand Prix champion! You should know his name! And it’s not a crush!”

“Oh, _him._ ” Yuuri waved his arm dismissively. “I told him to get lost when he tried to hit on me after the exhibition dance.”

“Yuuri! _What_?”

Yuuri shrugged. “Serves him right. All these champions are so full of themselves. Every time he talks to the press it’s like it’s raining sugar. Goody two shoes. As if I could be interested in someone like that!”

“I thought he was your idol. You have his posters in your room!”

“For target practice.” Yuuri stopped and smiled. “Just kidding!” _A bit of a slip there, oops._

Of course she knew about the posters. He’d kept them from his teenage years and had never bothered to take them down. It was probably a good idea to do that now. He didn’t want to ever look into that smug face again. He’d only bought them out of spite because his sister was rooting for a different skater, who had been Victor’s rival at the time and Yuuri was the kind of person to buy up a whole store of merchandise if it meant that it would make his sister angry and keep her out of his room.

They arrived too quickly and before he knew it his mother was greeting him in the same cheerful way as always. Minako gave her usual speech about healthy eating and staying in shape that Yuuri tuned out. If you couldn’t fight, you ran. If you didn’t stay in shape, then you ended up as a chalk outline, as far as Yuuri was concerned.

“What about you, Yuuri?”

“I’m fine,” he responded, resisting the urge to say something rude, “and _tired_. I’m going up to my room.”

He walked past her.

“You won’t escape from me, Yuuri!” She declared, grabbing him by the arm.

He spun around and floored her before he even realized he’d done it.

“Yuuri!” his mother exclaimed.

His father ran out to see what all the noise was about. His sister followed soon after. Suddenly he was at the centre of attention.

“S-sorry…” he said, stuttering on purpose and trying to sound like he meant what he said. “It’s not safe in Detroit, so Phichit and I took some self-defence classes.”

It was the least believable story in the world, but they bought it because that was the kind of people they were. He helped Minako to her feet.

 “How is Phichit doing?” his mother asked. Phichit was a skater from Thailand that trained under Celestino with him. For a while they were roommates in Detroit.

“Fine.” _Blackmailing two governments and living off the profits._

They’d got on like a house on fire as soon as Celestino had introduced them. Of course it helped that both of them had enough material on each other to land themselves in prison for life, but Yuuri enjoyed procuring more information for Phichit. He was also one of the few people that knew the real Phichit that hid behind that innocent skater façade.

In fact, if the both of them hadn’t preferred to win gold medals the fair way, they could probably have rigged the jury really nicely.

Hmmm… Maybe he could put in a call or two and mess with that smug Russian bastard. Five time Grand Prix winner he may be, but wait until his sixth time…

Yuuri suppressed a dark smile at that thought.

“I’m going to my room,” he said and left before he could do anything else to frighten his family.

The walls of his room were all covered with Victor’s posters and he congratulated himself on this part of his cover up. He’d practiced throwing knives at them until his aim was perfect. Sometimes he’d tape up the tears and sometimes he’d replace the posters altogether.

If that man came anywhere near him again… He swung his arm around and a knife embedded itself in one of the posters. He gave a satisfied nod, seeing it was protruding from one of the eyes. Perfect.

While his parents thought he was in the hot springs he snuck off for a little meet and greet with the local gangs. By the time night fell all of Hasetsu’s gang leaders had agreed to pay him a portion of their profits and a tax for staying in his city. Yuuri slipped into his room through the window, happy with a job well done.

Now for a coach…

He made a list of all the coaches he knew and then put together a list of all the coaches who’d take him. There were a grand total of zero names on the second list.

Yuuri tried a different approach. Who would he like to have as his coach?

That list was as long as the previous one. Too many of the coaches hated Yuuri and others had pupils who hated Yuuri or – and this was more important – who Yuuri hated.

Maybe a solution would come to him later.

He tossed the lists aside, logged into Skype and called Phichit.

“Hello, Yuuri!”

“How is Detroit?” he said by way of a greeting.

“I decided to move back home. Detroit isn’t the same without you.”

_I’ll bet it isn’t._ “So how is Bangkok?”

“You should come visit me sometime.”

He wondered if that meant that Phichit was in trouble. “Is that an official invitation?”

“Nope. Just drop by when you feel like it.”

Then everything was fine and it really _was_ just a friendly invitation.

“I’ll see how it goes,” Yuuri promised. “I need to find a new coach.”

“Hmm… I’ll help you look for one, if you want.”

“I want to try it myself first. To be honest, I’m not really sure who or what kind of coach I want yet.”

“Good luck!”

“Thanks.”

 

Three months went by and nothing changed. He returned home one evening in a foul mood not because the gang leaders had been so boring and predictable when they tried to kill him yet again, but because the coach question still loomed high on his list of priorities.

“Yuuri!” Minako called out as soon as he came in. “Where have you been all day? The World Championships are about to start.”

If she thought he was going to sit there and watch the World Championships with her as she drank herself stupid, she’d have to think again.

“I just remembered something urgent,” he said. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Hurry up!” she called after him. “Your favourite Victor will be on soon!”

Where could he go that people would leave him alone?

The answer came at a ridiculous speed: the ice rink.

He snuck in past Yuuko Nishigori, who was sorting rental skates by size. The Nishigori family wasn’t on his list of people he wanted to talk to either.

Yuuri put his skates on and exited onto the ice.

_“A commemorative photo?”_ His memory taunted him.

Anyone could skate that bastard’s program! It was the soppiest thing he’d ever seen! Eligible bachelor laments he’s lonely – how cliché was that?

Celestino always made him skate lyrical programs because they were the opposite of his personality. He longed to skate something with an attitude.

He could probably skate “Stammi Vicino” with a different tone.

As if someone had issued the challenge, he started to go through the routine. He’d practiced it during the previous three months just in case he ever got the chance to throw it in Victor’s face. Maybe he could get –

He spotted the Nishigori triplets filming his performance and smiled. _Perfect_. He knew he could count on them to post it on YouTube. What would goody-two-shoes do then?

The answer, when it came all wrapped up in a sudden snowfall, made Yuuri’s life take a sharp left turn.


	2. You Saved my Life!

There was a foreigner at the hot springs. The whisper went through the whole town and was closely followed by another tidbit of information, which was followed by another. In the end the string of rumours was roughly as follows:

  1. There is a foreigner at Yu-topia
  2. He is Victor Nikiforov
  3. A Russian figure skater
  4. Yes, the good-looking one
  5. No, no the _tall_ good-looking one
  6. He came to see Yuuri Katsuki
  7. To be his coach, obviously! Are you stupid?



Depending on who was participating in the conversation, the string of information developed a knot at number 5.

But the important bit of information – as far as Yuuri was concerned – was number 8, which didn’t circulate beyond the walls of Yu-topia.

  1. The mad man offered to be his coach while standing completely naked in water that only reached his knees.



_So he really_ was _hitting on me earlier,_ Yuuri thought and kept his face carefully blank. He’d seen worse than naked people. This wasn’t going to faze him. He wasn’t going to let it.

“And what makes you think I _want_ you to be my coach?” he demanded as if a line of candidates was standing just outside.

The living legend, the light of Russia’s eyes, the love of figure skating fans worldwide – or whatever other ridiculous epithet the newspapers were using that week – hadn’t expected this kind of response. _Obviously_.

He went from main-hero-delivers-dramatic-revelation to flustered-schoolgirl mode in a matter of seconds.

“I…I thought you wanted me to be your coach…” he stammered.

Yuuri stood there, fresh from his walk during which he’d nearly killed two men with his bare hands, with a bit of their blood still on his knuckles and leather jacket, with a knife in his right side pocket and a small automatic in his left one. In short, he had his usual rough don’t-mess-with-me look. He could blow the annoying man’s head off before he’d blink, but Yuuri considered his options instead.

He had no coach and no prospects of getting one. So the job came with some risk to everyone involved. Yuuri might kill Victor before the end of the week, or Victor might make Yuuri vomit rainbows or something else equally unpleasant. But here was a volunteer, an oblivious volunteer, but still.

A shadow moved on the fence around the hot springs and Yuuri jumped on top of Victor before he could even think about it.

A bullet whistled overhead.

“Hold your breath,” Yuuri hissed and dunked Victor’s head under the water. He raised his other hand to pull out a knife and throw it. There was a gasp and something heavy fell.

Yuuri smiled and then he realized he was soaking wet, sitting on top of a naked man in his parents’ hot springs. He pulled Victor’s head out of the water.

The Russian skater’s face was red, but probably _not_ because he’d just held his breath.

“You’ll have to learn to live with it,” Yuuri told him and stepped away.

Victor sat in the water, looking incredibly flustered.

“Oh, for the love of – _You’re_ the one who –” Yuuri sighed. “Look. There are people who want me dead, alright? And I don’t mean metaphorically. You still want to be my coach?”

“You… you saved my life!”

_Oh good, we’re doing the usual checklist!_ “Yes. A Russian skater dying in a Japanese skater’s house might just cause an international incident. That’s why they picked you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Next item… let’s see… Yes, I _did_ just tackle you to the ground. If you ever fight for your life you’ll learn to deal with it very fast.”

“You… you saved my life!”

“And ended someone else’s.”

“But…”

“Yes, I did. Lucky you.”

He saw the sparkle in Victor’s eyes and groaned. “No, you can’t –”

But it was too late and Victor’s arms were already around him.

“Oh god, let me guess: you’re eternally grateful and so on. Love of my life, that sort of nonsense?” He was exaggerating for the purposes of sarcasm, but Victor’s expression suggested he’d hit the mark.

This was going to be torture.

_Or I can have a lot of fun with this_ , he realized darkly.

“This is why you don’t grow up reading romance novels. That stuff rots your brains.” Victor was still not letting go. “Alright, you’ll be my coach. Let’s go inside and change into dry clothes.”

At those words Victor finally released him.

“You go first,” Yuuri said. “I need to get my knife back.”

“You’re going to take it back?” Victor asked.

“It’s a good knife.”

He also needed to dispose of the body, but that wasn’t something he was going to tell Victor.

 

By the time Yuuri changed and joined Victor in the dining room the Russian was asleep, clutching his dog, Makkachin, in his arms. For whatever reason he’d dragged his dog with him all the way from Russia.

_Look at the big sugar snowflake_ , Yuuri thought. He got himself some food and started to eat.

“Yuuri!” Minako exclaimed, bursting into the room. “It’s all over the Internet! And I heard people talking about it in the street! They say Victor came here to be your coach –” She cut off as soon as she noticed Victor’s sleeping form.

Victor turned over and continued to sleep.

“Why is he sleeping on the floor in one of the inn’s robes?”

“He went to the hot spring and decided he wanted a nap afterwards. How should I know? Maybe this is considered normal where he comes from.”

“Yuuri! Is he really going to be your coach? Did he really come all this way just because of that video?”

Yuuri leaned on the table. “Seems that way.” _I wanted to mock him. I wasn’t planning to impress him. Did I impress him?_ He watched Victor pull Makkachin closer in his sleep.

Victor sneezed and woke up. “Hmm… Is there any food? I’m hungry.” His robe slid off one shoulder and Yuuri couldn’t help but think of a femme fatale.

And then an odd thought came unbidden: if he and Phichit were using their skating careers as a cover-up, was Victor hiding something too?

There was only one way to check.

He fiddled with his chopsticks and then flung one straight at Victor’s face.

Victor ducked with a frightened scream and hit his head on the table.

Not an assassin then.

He really _was_ trying to flirt with Yuuri. In all honesty. Like someone who’d read a manual on flirting and was now following the instructions.

“Yuuri!” Minako shouted. “What was that?”

“Sorry, I meant to point them and one just slipped out of my hand.”

Makkachin ran after it, picked it up and brought it back to drop into Victor’s lap.

“Good dog!” Victor patted him with one hand as he rubbed his head with the other.

Yuuri’s mom walked into the room with a bowl of food in her hands. “Did you say you were hungry? I brought you dinner! It’s katsudon – Yuuri’s favourite dish.”

“Wow!” Victor exclaimed. Yuuri watched him try it and cringed as Victor declared it to be the food of the gods.

His mother skipped happily out of the room.

Minako got up and went to help.

Yuuri whipped out a knife and dug it into the table right next to Victor’s hand. “You breathe a word of my activities, or the threat on our lives and I promise you an international incident.”

Victor flinched and gave Yuuri a frightened look.

“Oh good, you’re finally beginning to understand. I guess you’re not completely stupid.” Yuuri put the knife away and ran a finger over the mark on the table. “Now, let’s agree on some rules. You aren’t going to hug me or touch me without my express permission, got it? Good. I don’t want to hear any mushy inspirational speeches or any of that other crap, alright? I can motivate myself and I _know_ I can master any skating element if I put my mind to it. And lastly and most importantly: you will _not_ flirt with me.”

“But –”

“I don’t want to hear it. If you want someone to love you back, find someone else. I want a professional coach-pupil relationship. I’m sure Yakov spoiled you rotten and let you do whatever you wanted. Well, if you don’t like it you can leave now.”

He waited for Victor’s reaction.

“I understand,” Victor nodded.

“Great. Now tell me why the hell you’re doing this.” He leaned forward. “Are you bored, insane or what? Did someone send you?”

“N-no one sent me…” Victor said, thrown off balance by Yuuri’s questioning. “I saw that video and I thought…”

“You thought I was asking you to be my coach? It was a challenge, not a cry for help!”

Victor blushed. “I… I liked how you skated my program.”

“Seriously?” Yuuri sat back and folded his arms over his chest.

Victor nodded. “There was so much energy in it!” He flicked a few bits of rice off his face and smiled. “I thought it was interesting and fresh.”

Yuuri wondered what could possibly be going through his head. What was Victor planning? Was he scoping out the competition? But then why bother becoming a coach? If Yuuri didn’t find a coach, there would be less competition.

“And anyway,” Victor added, “I decided to take a break for a year.”

“Why?”

Victor sighed theatrically. “To find new inspiration.”

“How do _you_ run out of inspiration? Don’t you get it from the stars or something else equally sappy?”

“No. Do you?” Victor leaned forward.

“I don’t think anyone does. I was just being sarcastic.”

“Well, as your coach I want to know where you get your inspiration from.”

Yuuri gave him an odd look.

“I brought dessert!” his mother announced, returning with Minako in tow.

“Sugar for the sugar snowflake,” Yuuri mumbled not quite under his breath.

Victor got excited over the dessert as well. Yuuri had to endure the sight of everyone acting as if it was Victor’s birthday. He promised himself to never have another meal with all of them ever again.

“So where will I stay?” Victor asked, downing the rest of the tea.

“Stay?” Minako and Yuuri exclaimed together.

“I’ll get your room ready!” Yuuri’s mother promised.

“Do whatever you want.” Yuuri rose to his feet. “I’m going to bed.”

All of the excited chatter was starting to tire him. He wanted some time alone to think.

Victor followed him out.

Yuuri waited until they were out of earshot before demanding to know why he was being followed.

“I thought you’d want to talk some more to me. I am your coach, after all.”

_How many times is he going to remind me?_

“And I want to know what it was you called me,” Victor went on.

“What? Moron? Madman?”

“No, when your mother brought dessert.”

“Oh.” He tried to remember. “Sugar snowflake.”

“I like it!” Victor decided.

“It’s meant to be an insult.”

“It doesn’t sound like an insult to me.”

“It means you’re full of sentimental crap,” Yuuri explained.

“Oh. How do you skate your lyrical programs if you think feelings are nonsense?” Victor asked with sudden astuteness.

Yuuri shrugged. “I just pretend to be you or someone like you.”

“You pretend to be _me_ when you skate?” Victor whispered.

They stood in the moonlit corridor two steps away from Yuuri’s room and Yuuri was suddenly very conscious of what his admission sounded like to Victor’s ears.

“Yes, but I obviously downplayed the annoying part,” he said, feeling faintly embarrassed. No one embarrassed Yuuri Katsuki!

Victor took his right hand in both of his. “I’ve never had a meeting like this,” he whispered excitedly, his eyes shining in the moonlight. “First you save my life, then you give me a cute nickname and now you tell me I’m your inspiration.”

“Oh, for the love of –” Yuuri wrenched his hand free. “I hate you, alright? You’re a stuck up goody-two-shoes who always lived a privileged life. You always follow the rules and probably never told a lie in your life, so _of course_ ,” he rolled his eyes, “you think “dangerous” is the same as attractive. It’s not. I can die any minute of any day and now so can you. That’s nothing to gush about. If anything, it’s something to whine about, but that’s life!”

“But you will protect me, so why should I be scared?”

“You keep that up and you’re going home in a box,” Yuuri promised, turned away and made for his room, hoping that this time Victor wouldn’t follow.

But Victor tailed Yuuri like a love-struck hound. Yuuri stopped, turned around and folded his hands over his chest.

“What do you want?”

“I wanted to see your room, as your coach,” he added, colouring slightly.

“Why?”

“Er…” _This better be good_. But he couldn’t think of an answer to that one.

“No one enters my room except for me, got it?” It was a good thing he’d taken down those posters or Victor would’ve gotten the wrong idea (if he ever made it inside, of course). “Now go sleep. Beware of monsters in your closet and under the bed and all that nonsense.”

“But what if someone tries to kill me again? Shouldn’t you stay close to me and guard me?”

_Clever move, snowflake._ “They know better than to go inside my house. That guy was really risking it. And,” Yuuri added, watching Victor prepare to contradict him, “there is adequate protection inside the house, believe me.”

That was a big secret, but so far no one sent after Yuuri’s life had returned so it was a successful one.

“Good night,” Victor said sadly. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“Yes, unfortunately.” Yuuri turned away and locked himself in his room.

Was the snowflake pathetic enough to cry himself to sleep? Yuuri was willing to bet money on it.


	3. He’s a Big Inspiration

Yuuri arrived at the skating rink on his motorcycle, throwing up dust and filling the morning air with deafening noise. He parked, turned off the engine and climbed off. Only when he pulled off his helmet did he realize he had an audience.

Victor stood still, his mouth slightly open.

“You’ll catch flies, if you don’t stop that,” Yuuri said, walking past him.

“C-can you give me a ride –”

“ _Hell no!_ ” Yuuri exclaimed. “I’m not a taxi service.” He caught sight of his reflection in one of the windows and stopped to fix his gelled-back hair.

Victor made as if to protest, but for some reason cut off abruptly. Yuuri caught Victor’s reflection and noticed the blush on his face.

_And this is why this whole coach thing is such a bad idea._

Yuuri’s mind worked in odd ways and he’d often done things out of spite. This time it calculated that the worst thing to do was to turn around and smirk and so he did.

Victor’s face turned redder.

“You look like a human tomato,” Yuuri told him. “Maybe I should call you that instead of a snowflake.”

It was a wasted comment: Victor was still having trouble stringing words together.

Yuuri headed for the change room and tossed off his coat onto the first available bench. A part of him expected Victor to run after it and catch it. He even opened his mouth to make a joke about fetching, but Victor remained rooted to the spot.

Yuuri didn’t even bother looking to find out what he was up to this time and just changed into his skates.

By the time they got to the ice Victor had managed to regain some amount of self-control. “Yuuri, for our first day, I think we should start with you showing me which jumps you can land.”

“Sounds like an exam,” Yuuri commented and went out onto the ice. And rebelled.

It took several minutes before the message finally sank in.

“Alright,” Victor said, “then we’ll start with the spins.”

_Pushover_ , Yuuri thought and went from spins to other elements. Spread Eagle, Ina Bauer…

_How long can I go on for before his patience runs out?_ he wondered. _Or is he just going to let me do whatever I want?_

He kept going as fatigue started to creep in. Victor remained silent, watching Yuuri thoughtfully. Would he ask Yuuri to stop? Would he give more instructions?

Half an hour went by, then an hour.

Yuuri was starting to feel ready to collapse, but still he kept going. He wasn’t going to stop now.

_What is he doing? Why isn’t he telling me to stop? Is he –_ He passed by really close to Victor and saw the serious look on his face. _Is this a test?_

He jumped a quad and messed up the landing.

“Yuuri,” Victor said, coming out onto the ice. “I was starting to think you were a machine!”

Yuuri raised his head and looked up at Victor. “What?”

“You’ve been going for almost 2 hours!” Victor held out his hands, but Yuuri pushed them away.

“I can get up on my own.” He climbed to his feet, willing them to support him. “I’m thirsty,” he said and left the ice.

Victor said nothing.

Yuuri watched him start what looked like a prepared routine. Victor jumped a quadruple flip and a smile of pure joy appeared on his face.

_Sugar Snowflake_ , Yuuri thought and kept his face carefully neutral.

“It’s like a dream, isn’t it?” he heard Yuuko say beside him.

He’d missed her sneaking up on him. It was clearly a sign that he was really tired.

Yuuko reminisced about a childhood spent following in Victor’s footsteps. Yuuri remembered it differently.

He remembered seeing Victor skate for the first time and the determination to go out on the ice and beat him. And the more awards Victor won, the more determined he got. So he was a child prodigy and then a living legend, so what?

Now the living legend was skating something sappy before his eyes and it took all of his self-control to watch quietly and say nothing.

Yuuko was practically gushing with excitement. She was the real fan. She was the one who kept running in excitedly and showing him everything, assuming that he cared. For some reason he never told her that he didn’t. Or that he’d secretly arranged for some of Victor’s merchandise to arrive at her house.

“Victor Nikiforov here! In the flesh! Doing his signature quadruple flip!” She was ready to explode.

He merely nodded.

“Do you mind if I ask for his autograph?”

She’d always been the one person he couldn’t be sarcastic at. “Go ahead. I’m sure he’ll be flattered.”

“Thanks!”

He’d looked out for the Nishigori family when he got the chance. It wasn’t just because of the ice rink. Yuuko was his childhood friend and Yuuri never forgot his friends, especially ones that knew him almost his whole life.

He turned away and walked back to the change room. Victor found him there 15 minutes later.

“Tired already?”

“I have some gangs to sort out,” Yuuri said and pulled off his skates.

“Yuuri!”

“Victor!” he exclaimed in a mocking tone of voice.

“Don’t you care about your skating career?”

“Do you? Or will you continue showing off on the ice?” He asked, pulling on his shoes.

“Yuuri, if I’m going to be your coach, you have to listen to me.”

“I am listening.”

“I mean do what I say.” Victor sighed. “I wasn’t going to mention this, but Celestino called this morning.”

“Oh good and what did he have to say?” Yuuri leant back on the bench, wondering if Victor would quote Celestino directly.

“He told me to go home.” _I bet he said it differently, although it is you, so maybe he didn’t use any swearwords._

“And you obviously followed his advice.”

“Yuuri, I’m convinced that with the right coach you can win gold.”

“And what makes you think you’re that coach?” Yuuri asked, rising to his feet.

Victor walked over to where Yuuri’s coat lay discarded on one of the benches and picked it up. He tossed it to Yuuri who caught it without thinking. “Go home. Practice is over for today.”

“Yes, sir.” Yuuri put his coat on and smirked at Victor. His coach blushed. _Every time._ He walked out as casually as possible and over to his bike. _Damn that idiot!_

 

Minako cornered Yuuri later that day just as he was getting ready to eat dinner.

“Where is Victor?” was her first question.

“On his way here, probably.”

“And how was the first day of practice?”

“I was trying not to die of boredom and Victor wouldn’t stop drooling,” he lied.

Minako shook her head. “What does he see in you?”

“How the –” Mrs. Katsuki walked into the room and beamed at her son. “How should I know?”

“Hello, Yuuri! How was your practice with Victor today?”

“Great, mom. He’s a big inspiration.” _He inspires me to hit him over the head with a blunt object._

“That’s my boy! I’ll go make him more katsudon. He really enjoyed that yesterday.”

Yuuri waited for her to leave before returning to his conversation with Minako. “Maybe he just likes it rough.”

He expected her to understand what he meant, but she merely gave him a blank look.

“As in: he enjoys a challenge,” he mistranslated. He wasn’t about to explain what he’d really meant.

The door opened and Victor came in. He sat down next to Yuuri, his usual smile on his face. Yuuri wondered what could possibly be going through his head.

Minako was watching them both with interest and Yuuri just knew her impressions were going to be all over the Internet in a matter of hours.

“You should take Victor around the city and show him the sites,” she suggested.

_Yeah, that’s right! Set me up on a date with him, why don’t you?_

“I would like that!”

“This is Hasetsu, not Tokyo,” Yuuri pointed out. “There’s nothing to see here, apart from the castle on the hill with ninjas –”

“Ninjas?” Victor’s eyes lit up excitedly and Yuuri tried his hardest to not compare them to anything.

He sighed. “I don’t see why I have to do it. Just get Minako to take you.”

“But I’m your coach, Yuuri!”

_Is that going to be an argument for everything?_ “Fine, whatever.”

 

Afterwards Yuuri wondered if it had been a mistake to give in. Perhaps, things would have turned out differently if he hadn’t. If they hadn’t gone, Victor wouldn’t have asked him to take a photo of him and Makkachin in front of the castle. He wouldn’t have then posted it with Hasetsu in the tags. Yuuri Plisetsky wouldn’t have seen it. He wouldn’t have come and… but all that was yet to come.

The picture taken, Victor got excited over all the attention it attracted.

And even when – a day later – a stampede of people from the press invaded the ice rink Victor smiled and acted as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Look what you’ve done,” Yuuri muttered to him. “Hordes of you fans will be coming here from around the world, asking you to sign their underwear.”

“I’ve never signed anyone’s underwear before!”

“Then you’ll have something to look forward to, I’m sure.” Yuuri spotted an opening in the crowd and made for it. “Enjoy the attention. I’m off for a ride.”

“But, Yuuri, your training –”

Yuuri walked towards the exit and stopped. The doors swung open and someone flew at him.

Suddenly he could see three options clearly in his mind: fight, run or play the human shield. He heard Victor’s footsteps behind him and was very conscious of the press around him, cameras at the ready.


	4. Did you want his Autograph?

Yuuri picked option 4, which – in theory – was the best one, but in practice turned out to be the worst choice. He darted back and floored Victor while the unknown assailant flew overhead, well out of harm’s way. This worked out perfectly.

What Yuuri hadn’t taken into account was exactly _how_ he’d land on Victor.

“F –” he bit back the curse. “Crap! Darn!”

To put it politely, Yuuri was tangled up in Victor’s long limbs. To put it impolitely, well – he’d give anyone a kicking who dared to put it impolitely. Well out of the press’s earshot, of course. He managed to untangle himself and sat up. Very briefly he saw the five time champion from the point of view of, say, an ant crawling up his leg.

Victor’s face turned red the instant his brain worked out just what had happened.

“Sorry about that,” Yuuri said, remembering to keep up appearances. “I slipped on the floor.” So far so good.

Who the _hell_ had attacked him?

“Yuuri!” a voice growled and he saw a young man clutching his head as he tried to focus on Yuuri’s face. He must’ve hit his head on the opposite wall. Yuuri hoped with every fibre of his being that it hurt like hell.

Ah. Yuri Plisetsky: last year’s junior world champion. Not much of a threat. Probably more of an insult that they’d ended up like this because of such small fry.

Yuuri got up to his feet. “Hello.”

Plisetsky was spluttering something incoherent and then he stuck his finger out and pointed it into Yuuri’s face. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Why did you make Victor come all the way here?”

“Victor came of his own free will and he is equally free to leave at any time,” Yuuri said. “I’m sorry, did you want his autograph?”

“I’m not kidding around, _pig_!”

“If I were you,” Yuuri whispered, leaning closer, “I’d put that finger away before someone cuts it off, or _worse -_ makes you eat it.”

Yuri blanched and stepped back.

Victor climbed to his feet. “Alright, no need to fight.”

“Listen to s- Victor,” Yuuri said. “Why don’t you go home and train hard? And who knows, you might get to compete with us adults in the finals this year?”

That did it. Yuri grabbed Yuuri’s hand and squeezed. It was a game Katsuki was good at, so he merely smiled and, remembering what Phichit had told him in the past, added, “How nice of you to hold my hand in case I slip again.”

“You bastard,” Yuri growled through clenched teeth.

“Go home, kid. You’re way out of your league,” Yuuri whispered and tapped his side pocket with his free hand meaningfully.

Plisetsky held on, gritting his teeth.

“You’ve got guts, kid,” Yuuri whispered, “but you need to know when to call it quits.”

Plisetsky let go and stepped back. “Victor! You promised me a program for my senior debut!”

Now _that_ , Yuuri had to admit, was a perfectly valid reason that justified everything.

He folded his arms over his chest and waited for Victor’s response. Beside him Yuri waited as well. As did the press, breaths drawn, pens and recording equipment at the ready.

“Sorry, I completely forgot, but then you knew I was the forgetful type!”

“Not good enough!” Plisetsky insisted. “A promise is a promise!”

Yuuri got tired of waiting for Victor to come up with a solution that made everyone happy. He opened his mouth to tell the kid to get lost, but Victor had already come to a decision.

“I guess we’ll have to make a competition of it.”

“Competition?” both Yuris echoed.

“Oh yes. I had two different programs planned for the same piece of music and couldn’t decide on one, so I’ll have you two skate them.”

“I’m not skating to the same music as him!” both Yuris exclaimed in unison and then glared at each other.

“It’s different arrangements of the same music,” Victor explained. “If you win, Yuri, I will go back to Russia.” Victor turned and smiled at Yuuri. “And if you win, then I will stay on as your coach!”

The media exploded at this. “A competition! How exciting!”

“Oh _great_ ,” Yuuri rolled his eyes and headed for the change room. He saw the Russian Yuri follow him as Victor stayed behind to speak with the press. “Look what you did! Now we’re supposed to fight for him like some sort of knights over a fair maiden! That will go to his head for sure!”

“Why do you care? I thought you hated him.”

“He’s also the only person willing to be my coach,” Yuuri pointed out, changing into his skates.

“You mean he’s the only one stupid enough to _want_ to be your coach.”

Yuuri let that comment pass. _I’ll beat you so hard, kid, you’ll run home crying._

“Besides, we don’t need two Yuris in the same bracket, so just retire already, old man.”

That did it. Yuuri stepped up to the Russian skater and leaned down so that their foreheads almost touched. “I have on my person one good throwing knife and a gun. I don’t need to tell you how much damage I can do to a skater’s career if I pull either of them out. I am also trained in unarmed combat and can do amazing things to your career with just one leg.”

He stepped back and waited for Yuri to say something. Yuri remained quiet.

“Listen, kid,” he hissed, “I was nice before because the press was there, but now there are no witnesses here, so you better watch your mouth. Got it?”

Yuri gave him a defiant look.

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with. I’m not rebelling against my parents because I’m angry at the world, alright? I’m armed, I’m dangerous and I have a very short temper. Now, I’m sure that deep inside you’re actually a good kid, so don’t start a fight you can’t end.”

The doors opened and Victor walked into the room, a big smile on his face. “Are you ready for practice?”

“We’re just bursting with enthusiasm, _coach_ ,” Yuuri said sarcastically.

“Great!”

“Stupid Snowflake,” Yuuri muttered as he walked towards the rink.

Yuri snorted.

They got on the ice as Victor got ready and set up the music.

“I want you to listen to these pieces and tell me what you think –”

“Why don’t we skip the music critique and you just assign us a piece each?” Yuuri suggested.

“But I want you to think about what the composer is trying to say so you can put it into your skate.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Yuuri folded his arms over his chest, not willing to yield an inch.

Yuri watched the exchange without a word.

“I’m the coach and it’s my decision,” Victor countered.

“Oh, right, because that explains everything.” Yuuri looked at Yuri. “You know, for one second I forgot he was the coach. It’s a good thing he reminded me.”

Yuri burst out laughing.

Victor put the music on anyway.

They listened to it in silence.

_You have_ got _to be kidding me! I’m not skating to another lyrical piece if my life depends on it. If it’s that or retirement, I’ll take retirement any day._

“What do you think?” Victor asked and stopped the music.

“I think I need to find something better to do with my time – throw some knives, shoot a gun.”

“Can you teach me how to throw knives?” Yuri asked.

_Where the hell did that come from?_

“Yuuri, no!” Victor exclaimed.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” Yuuri snapped.

“So you’ll teach me?” Plisetsky asked.

“Hell, no.”

“Going back to the music –” Victor tried again.

“Yes, it’s raining sugar and eternal love and that nonsense. Can we hear the other version now?”

Yuri snorted.

Victor sighed and put the other piece on.

“Much better,” Yuuri said, hearing the first few bars of music. “I’ll take this one.”

Yuri started to protest, but Victor nodded. “Fine. Yuri, you get the other one.”

_Enjoy, kid_.

“I’ll show you the choreography I have planned for these,” Victor said and put the first piece on. “Agape – unconditional love,” Victor explained. “It’s a love that is self-sacrificing and expects nothing in return.”

_As if I believe that actually exists in real life_ , Yuuri thought. _Romance novel nonsense again._

The two Yuris cleared the ice for him and watched him skate. Plisetsky had a concentrated look on his face as he tried to commit every element to memory.

“Like that,” Victor said when he finished and beamed. “What do you think?”

“Got it.”

“And now for Eros.”

Victor started on the new routine. “Eros – pleasurable love. It’s all about desire and satisfying that desire. Pleasure follows more pleasure until one is drowning in it.”

_Why do you have to sound like a textbook when you say that?_ “We get it. It’s about sex.”

Victor got to the end and smiled. “Alright, Yuuri, you go first.”

“Easy.” Yuuri skated out onto the ice and repeated Victor’s routine as he remembered it.

He stopped and looked at them. “Well?”

Yuri and Victor exchanged a look.

“I’m not sure what that was, but it wasn’t Eros,” Victor said.

“He obviously has no idea what Eros means,” Yuri said. “Just make _him_ skate Agape.”

“Shut it, kid.”

“Stop fighting,” Victor intervened. “You both think too highly of yourselves, when at best you’re mediocre.” Both Yuris froze and stared at him. “What makes you think you can decide what you should skate? It will be as I said. If neither of you can skate the programs I assigned to my satisfaction, I’m not coaching either of you.”

_Sounds like you’re finally taking all of this seriously._ Yuuri smirked. “Fine by me.”

“And me,” Yuri joined in, determined not to be outdone.

“But first – a temple!” Victor exclaimed.

“A what-now?” Yuuri demanded.

“You’re both going to a temple and you will stay there until you calm down.”

“If you think you can –” Yuuri started.

“And anyone who doesn’t listen to me is automatically disqualified.”

Yuuri spotted the flaw right away. “As long as you give reasonable instructions.”

“Fine. Now go.”

 

They went to the temple on foot. Both Yuris had to endure chanting and then being hit several times. It took a lot of restraint on Yuuri’s part to suppress the instinct to fight back. No one was watching the Snowflake, but Yuuri was too angry to care. The anger he felt got only stronger when Yuri announced that he was staying with them and his family ran around preparing a room for another unannounced guest. Feeling the need to take his anger out on someone, he snuck out only to return late in the night.

A figure stood in front of his door when he came down the hallway.

“Where have you been, Yuuri?”

“Just taking out the trash.”

Victor stepped forward, opened his mouth and then closed it again.

_You look like a fish._

“I was worried.”

Yuuri remained in his spot, saying nothing and waiting for Victor to leave.

“I wanted to tell you something, but now I think I will wait.” Still he stood there. It didn’t look like he was planning on going anywhere in the next century or two.

“Can I go sleep, _coach_?”

With a sigh Victor turned and left.

_The Moon isn’t full and the stars aren’t shining down for you to say whatever it is, huh?_ Yuuri rolled his eyes and went to his room. He paused in the doorway. _He wasn’t going to confess, was he?_ That was a troubling thought.


	5. It’s just a Scratch

A week of intense training went by and one afternoon both Yuris found themselves at a waterfall to help the Russian Yuri find his Agape. Yuuri stood under the water and went through a list of names in his mind. People persisted in trying to kill him and he wondered if it was just his imagination or if there really was one person behind all of the attacks. There was a rumour that anyone successful in getting rid of Yuuri Katsuki would get a substantial reward, but was it just a rumour or was there really someone offering money for his life?

It was no good. He needed to talk to more of his informants. Standing here wasn’t going to accomplish anything.

“Let’s go,” he said to Yuri and pulled him out of the water.

Yuri stared at him in surprise. There was something vulnerable in his face. _What had he been thinking about all this time? I had a feeling he was a good kid deep down._

Yuri sneezed. _Oh great, now he has a cold!_

Something whistled through the air. Katsuki grabbed Plisetsky and pulled him behind the nearest rock he could find.

A bullet hit the water and then another. And then it was raining bullets.

“Dammit! I left my gun with my things! Damn this stupid waterfall!”

“Who the hell is firing at us?”

“It’s me they want, not you!” Yuuri shouted back, holding Yuri out of the way of the bullets. “When I find out who –”

“Here.” Suddenly Victor was there and he was holding out Yuuri’s gun to him.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I had a feeling this would happen.”

“Yeah, right.” He grabbed the gun. “Watch the kid.” He turned around and fired.

“And you want to be this guy’s coach?” Yuri demanded. “Have you lost your mind, Victor?”

_Finally, someone who gets it!_

“Don’t worry: Yuuri will protect us,” Victor reassured him.

Both Yuris stared at Victor in disbelief as the firing died down around them.

“I think it’s over,” Victor said, peeking out.

Yuuri grabbed his head and pulled him down. “You idiot!”

A bullet flew through the spot where his head had been.

“You need to grab the kid and go,” Yuuri said. “He’ll catch a cold if he stays in the water any longer.”

“Oy! I’m not a kid!”

“Shut it,” Yuuri said coldly. “I’ll give you cover and you run as fast as you can. Got it?”

“No,” Victor argued. “We’re staying here with you.”

“Ah yes, because, as everyone knows, three corpses are better than one!”

“And I won’t let you die because of me!”

Yuuri turned around and stared at Victor. Between them Yuri sneezed, despite all his efforts to suppress it.

_What the hell do I say to such sentimental nonsense? You do whatever it takes to survive!_

He’d been so surprised that when a bullet came at just the right angle it grazed his arm.

“Yuuri!”

“I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.”

“Let me see that.”

“No!” Yuuri snapped. “This is my turf. These are my rules and you will listen to me. Take Yuri and go. I will deal with them and catch up with you.”

“You promise?”

 _What sort of idiotic question is that? And what will you do if I don’t keep my promise?_ “Whatever makes you go faster.”

Victor grabbed Yuri by the arm and ran while Yuuri shot at their attackers. The fight was surprisingly short and Yuuri caught up with his visitors outside his house.

“One of them got away,” Yuuri said before either of them could ask anything. “And I ran out of bullets.”

They went inside the house, somehow avoiding Yuuri’s family, and gathered in Victor’s room. Yuuri loaded his gun, conscious of the fact that the other two skaters were watching him do it.

“Let me see that wound,” Victor said.

“It’s just a scratch.”

Victor took his hand and rolled the sleeve up. “Yuri, get me some band aids.”

To Yuuri’s surprise the Russian Yuri did as he was told without arguing.

“You really don’t need to –”

“Yes, I do.”

Yuri returned with a first aid kit and Yuuri’s mother. He hid the gun as quickly as he could.

“Yuuri, what happened?”

“Nothing, mom, I just grazed my shoulder on a rock by accident. It’s just a scratch.” _Stupid Yuri!_

Victor got some rubbing alcohol and treated Yuuri’s cut. Why did he have to make such a big fuss over a silly scratch? Yuuri sat still as Victor plastered a big band aid on his arm. He ran his fingers over it.

“There,” Victor smiled and pulled Yuuri’s sleeve back down.

Yuuri rolled his eyes.

 

Yuuri slipped out of the house right after dinner to catch the one who got away. The man ran, throwing terrified looks over his shoulder. Yuuri was faster. He had a knack for running through the streets and remaining unnoticed. It wasn’t a particularly difficult skill, but for some reason Yuuri hadn’t met many people who had it.

He caught up with the man in an empty field. His attacker had long ago discarded his gun. He dropped to his knees and stared up into Yuuri’s cold eyes.

“Please don’t kill me! I will tell you anything!”

Yuuri raised his gun to the man’s face. “Who sent you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Wrong answer.”

A single shot broke the silence and Yuuri walked away, leaving behind a bleeding corpse.

Apart from the earlier wound, Yuuri didn’t have a single scratch on him. For some reason, he found this really annoying.

 

Yuuri climbed into the house through Victor’s window.

“Yuuri! I was worried sick about you!” Victor ran forward to greet him.

Yuri Plisetsky sat on the sofa Victor’s room. He also had a relieved look on his face.

“What happened to your face?” Victor asked.

“I chased the bastard through a forest,” Yuuri explained. “It’s just a couple of scratches. I’ll be fine.” He’d found the densest bush and climbed through it on his way back.

“And your clothes are torn.”

“That’s not important.”

“I’ll put some band aids on those scratches so they heal faster,” Victor announced and headed for the first aid kid on the table.

_He kept it in his room!_

Yuuri sat still as Victor put band aids all over his face. He’d never let anyone fuss over him like this before. Even when he was small and his mother tried something like this he’d sneak off to his room and lock himself away from the world. It didn’t feel so bad. If anyone else had tried this, he would have broken their arm off, but here was the Snowflake getting all worked up over his face and Yuuri didn’t mind. He didn’t mind the gentle touch of Victor’s fingers and he didn’t mind when Victor held onto his face for longer than was strictly necessary.

“Do you think they’ll send someone again?” Yuri asked.

“I know they will,” Yuuri answered.

Victor gave a gentle sigh and Yuuri felt his breath on his face.

“They won’t stop until I’m dead,” he said, looking into Victor’s face. “That’s why you need to beat me, Yuri.”

Yuri nearly fell of the couch. “What?”

“Beat me and take the Snowflake home.”

There was a faint smile on Victor’s face at those words. “You forget that I pick the winner.”

Yuuri shrugged as if it didn’t mean anything. Victor released him and turned away.

Yuuri got off the chair and made for the door. “I’m not joking. You need to leave, Victor. It’s not safe for you here.” _They sent small fry this time, but next time they’ll send someone better._

He walked out and Yuri followed him into the hallway.

“You _do_ realize that saying that will only make him stay, right?” Yuri asked several steps later.

“Then you’ll have to drag him home by force.”

“Only if you teach me how to fire a gun.”

“I’m not teaching you anything,” Yuuri snapped. “Stick to figure skating and don’t poke your nose where it could get cut off.”

“If you want him to leave so badly then what was all that “he’s the only coach who wants me” nonsense?”

“That’s because –”

“And if you don’t want him to stay,” Yuri interrupted, “why do you keep flirting with him?”

“I wasn’t _flirting_!”

“It looked like flirting to me!”

Yuuri grabbed his arm and pulled him into another corridor. “You have a very wild imagination, kid. That could get you into serious trouble, seeing things that aren’t there.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“And here I thought you were a smart kid.”

“You’re all threats and nothing more!”

There was a noise outside and Yuuri put his hand over Yuri’s mouth. “Shush!”

Plisetsky struggled to free himself, but Katsuki held him in place. “Do you hear that?” he whispered.

Something was coming through the bushes. The Russian Yuri’s eyes widened in fear. Yuuri recognized the footsteps and pulled away from him.

“What is that?” Yuri whispered.

“Protection.” Yuuri headed for his room. _Flirting? Me? The very idea! They are all mad! Completely out of their minds!_


	6. What do You Have on Him?

Yuuri watched the Russian Yuri practice his routine with Victor. Despite, or perhaps because of, the attack at the waterfall, he’d managed to find his Agape. And still Yuuri didn’t know what was missing for his Eros. He’d even dug up some old love movies (although he would kill anyone if they ever found out) to try and find some inspiration. He imitated one of the characters as closely as he could and still Victor told him it was no good.

_What does Eros mean to me? Hell if I know! I’ve never been attracted to anyone before. Well, not enough to want to screw them anyway. I bet I can win if I smirk at Victor right before the performance. That always works on him for some reason._

Despite insisting that Victor should leave, despite telling Yuri that he had to win, Yuuri wasn’t going to back down. He wasn’t going to surrender to some kid.

_Victor should just see that he has to leave and go. Why the hell does he stick around if he could die any moment?_ It just made no sense. _Well I warned him anyway. If he dies, he has no one to blame but himself and I’ll be back to square one._ He rose to his feet and exited onto the ice.

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, skating up to him. “Have you found Eros, yet?”

“Yeah, in a dictionary.”

Yuri sniggered.

“Get off the ice. It’s my turn to practice.”

 

They were eating dinner (together again because Yuuri had been too tired to sneak off as usual) when Minako sprang the big question:

“So what outfits will you wear?”

Victor jumped in before anyone else could answer. “Don’t worry; I had all my old outfits shipped here so you can pick out something you like.”

“As if I’m going to skate in a hand-me-down from you!” Yuuri exclaimed. “I’ve already made arrangements for an outfit.” He got up. “Have fun choosing, kid.”

“Oy! I’m not a kid!”

_That’s what you think._

 

When the day of the competition came Yuuri arrived after everyone else. He found Yuri in a hallway, surrounded by people from the press. He was already in his skating outfit with a jacket thrown on over it.

“We don’t need two Yuris in the same competition,” he was telling the press. “I will crush him.”

The press welcomed this response as they always did anything that could lead to a conflict and, therefore, to more things to discuss on the news: with lots of enthusiasm.

“And what do you think, Yuuri Katsuki?” one of the reporters asked him.

Yuuri stared calmly at the press, knowing full well that what they were recording was being transmitted live to at least one channel. Somewhere on the other end his enemies were watching, whoever they were.

_Everyone_ , he thought, _with a few exceptions, everyone is my enemy._

“I will not go down without a fight,” he said. “It will take a lot to defeat me.” He gave a sarcastic bow and walked away.

“Yuuri!” Victor came running down the hallway. “Are you ready?”

“And what would you do if I said no?”

Victor puzzled over this.

Yuuri kept walking down the hall.

“Yuuri! Good luck!” Yuuko exclaimed, appearing at the end of the hallway.

He nodded at her and saw her dash down the hallway to wish Yuri luck as well. Somehow those two had grown close over the last few days. Yuuri didn’t ask any questions. As far as he was concerned, it had nothing to do with him.

 

Yuri Plisetsky was the first to skate. The boy had potential that much was obvious. In fact, with the right coach he could even become serious competition.

Yuuri looked at Victor. He was smiling.

_Agape: the kind of mushy love you get in movies. Sell your soul to the devil, jump in front of a bullet – that sort of nonsense. You’re not bad at it, kid. But it’s a trap: if you’re too good you’ll be stuck skating Agape forever._ Then he smirked. _Not that it matters: the judge is already biased in my favour. It’s not fair but that’s life for you._

He remembered the way Phichit had laughed when he’d called to ask about his new coach.

_“What do you have on him?”_

_“Nothing except for his big crush on me.”_

_“Victor Nikiforov? Really? Hmm… I can sort of see it, yeah.”_

_“It’s not exactly an advantage in my position.”_

_“It_ is _really funny, though.”_

_“Oh that’s a relief! If I don’t win gold in the Grand Prix Final I can always tell myself that at least it was really funny.”_

Yuri Plisetsky finished skating and the audience exploded with applause. The commentator was saying the same typical stuff about the next skating generation commentators always said when a really young skater performed. They probably had a speech written down somewhere that they recycled from year to year, hoping no one would notice.

“It’s your turn now, Yuuri,” Victor said.

_Hello and welcome to kindergarten where we will walk you through everything one little baby step at a time. Please remember not to wet the bed._

“If you’re sure.”

Plisetsky got off the ice and Yuuri exited onto it, still in his jacket.

“Yuuri! You forgot your-!”

Yuuri unzipped his jacket and tossed it to Victor. He smirked as Victor struggled to catch it and then watched his coach take in the sight of his costume for the first time. Victor’s face was a shade of red Yuuri hadn’t seen him turn before. Satisfied, he turned away and skated into position. Even he had to admit that this was, quite possibly, too much leather.

_I feel like I should be going to a punk concert and not figure skating in this._

The music started to a hushed silence from the audience.

_You’ve never seen me like this, but here I am – more the real me than before._

He went through his routine, flubbing only one jump, but knowing that it wouldn’t matter much.

The music ended and he held his final pose, trying to catch his breath. The audience broke into applause yet again.

“Incredible! We are seeing the rebirth of…”

Yuuri bowed to the crowd and kept his face as neutral as possible. _Rebirth my foot! More like liberation._

He skated to the exit where Victor was holding a handkerchief to his face.

“What happened?”

“N-nothing,” Victor insisted, smiling.

“Oh, so you just casually nosebleed into a handkerchief from time to time?”

“I-it’s nothing, really.”

And then the penny dropped. _Oh God, it’s me. I overdid it. Great, just freaking great. Nice going, Yuuri Katsuki. This will solve the coach problem for sure._

Victor stood there, his handkerchief pressed to his nose, and took in the details of Yuuri’s costume. The designer went overboard with the big cut on his back and the studs on the front (and Yuuri had given her a hard time about it only to hear her claim that this was exactly what he needed).

“I like your outfit,” he said.

“Yes, I can see that. In fact, the people in the back seats can probably see that.”

He remembered about the Russian Yuri and looked at him. The kid turned away with an angry look on his face.

 

They set up a podium. They actually set up a podium for a competition between two people and stuck some numbers on it. Congratulations! You won second place! It sounded idiotic no matter how Yuuri looked at it. Second place? There was no such thing. It was first place and last place. You won or you lost. It was like getting an award for participation. You’re important, you really are!

Whatever it was called, Yuuri was the one that won and that was all that mattered. The Russian Yuri stormed off, not bothering to grace the silly podium with his presence.

Victor managed to get a microphone from someone in the press and, assuming what he probably thought was a suitably dramatic pose, announced, “I look forward to being Yuuri Katsuki’s coach. Together we will win gold in the Grand Prix Final!”

_You mean_ I _will win gold and you will watch me do it. If we survive that long._

“Do you have any words for your fans, Yuuri?” Victor asked.

Yuuri took the microphone and the smirk was back on his face. “Three words: watch me win.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to make a joke about making a competition for the design of Yuuri's Eros outfit in this AU, but I don't remember what it was going to be anymore. (If you feel like drawing it anyway, let me know. I'd love to see it.)


	7. How Can I Motivate You?

The next day he couldn’t find any motivation to skate at all. He sat in the change room, staring down at his feet, feeling tired and drained. Here was something new he hadn’t experienced before and wasn’t that _exciting_? The high he usually got when he won was gone. It evaporated the moment he saw that Yuri’s stuff had vanished and heard that he’d returned home. But, while before he would search for the strength to fight in the next competition, now the summer stretched ahead of him with his first competition still a long way away.

_Now it’s just me and him, which brings us back to our initial problem. What do I do with a coach like Victor?_

That was how Victor found him: sitting deep in thought on one of the benches by the lockers.

“What’s wrong, Yuuri?”

“I’m not feeling very motivated today. I think the fairy dust or whatever ran out, Peter Pan.” He rolled his eyes. _Today was a good day to ask more questions. I should’ve done some snooping around instead._

“How can I motivate you?”

“Drop your pants.” Yuuri smirked.

There was a pause and then the sound of a pair of pants hitting the floor.

Yuuri stared at him in disbelief. “What the hell is wrong with you? I was just kidding!”

Victor’s face was red and he stared down at the floor as he said, “I-I thought you were serious…” He smiled. “I can take the rest of my clothes off, if it helps.”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you did: you already did that once.” _The only surprising thing is that I somehow managed to forget._

“Yuuri, I –”

“Put your pants back on. Let’s go for a walk.” _This guy! What the hell?_

They left the rink together.

“I… thought you were flirting with me,” Victor said at last.

“Why would I…” Yuuri stopped, grabbed Victor and pulled him around a corner where he pushed him against a wall.

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed.

Someone fired in their direction. Yuuri held Victor in place, one hand on the Russian skater’s chest and one on his shoulder.

“You want to be quiet, maybe?” Yuuri whispered.

Victor blushed and nodded. Yuuri shifted closer and then leaned sideways to peer out.

“I think they’re gone…” he said quietly. “That can’t be right.”

They stayed absolutely still. Yuuri could feel Victor’s heartbeat against his hand. That was when he became aware of the position of his hand.

“Ah,” he said and took his hand away.

Victor caught it and pulled it back. He saw Yuuri open his mouth to curse and motioned him to stay quiet.

“He was here I tell you!” a gruff voice said.

Victor grabbed Yuuri by the shoulders and switched positions with him, shielding him from view with his own body.

“You idiot!” Yuuri whispered. “Do you really think that will work? That they’ll come around the corner and think “oh, it’s just a random man leaning against the wall; obviously Yuuri Katsuki isn’t here. We’ll just go somewhere else”?”

Victor leaned really close and whispered, “Stay here.”

Then he stepped back and walked around the corner.

_He’s freaking suicidal! What the hell?_

“Hello! I’m sorry, I got lost,” Yuuri heard Victor say. “Can you please tell me how to get to the Castle?”

_Hello, I’m lost and stupid! Can you please shoot me? What the hell is wrong with his head?_

“It’s that way. Just follow this road and then make a left. You can’t miss it after that.”

“Thanks so much!”

“Hey, did you see a young man this tall, with dark hair and glasses?”

“Yes, I did.” Yuuri felt his heart stop and he reached for his gun. “He went that way.”

“Thank you. Have a good day!”

_Polite thugs? Really?_

He waited for them to come around the corner and try to kill him, but they never came.

After a while Victor returned. “I sent them in the opposite direction. We can go now.”

“And they didn’t recognize you?” _He saved my life! The sugar Snowflake saved my life! In the stupidest way possible, but it worked!_

“Apparently not.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri said and did his best to disguise how much it cost him to say it.

“You keep saving my life, so I wanted to return the favour. And, besides, I’m your coach.”

“And, to think, we very nearly went a day without you saying that!” He saw Victor’s expression change. _On the other hand, he_ did _just throw himself straight into it for me._ “Alright,” he sighed, “I owe you one.” He looked into Victor’s face. “What do you want, Snowflake?”

For a second he thought Victor would say that he didn’t need anything and then there was a smile on his face and Yuuri regretted the offer he’d made.

 _Dammit, what the hell is wrong with me? There’s no telling what he might ask for!_ He did his best to stop his brain from taking a trip to the gutter, but it was too late.

“Can we go to the beach?”

Yuuri examined this request for any possible drawbacks. “Fine by me.”

Victor opened his mouth, hesitated and added, “…on your bike?”

 _And there’s the catch._ “I agreed to it already, didn’t I?”

“We can walk, if you really don’t want to…” Victor said, offering a way out much to Yuuri’s surprise.

“When I make a promise, I keep it,” he said and walked back to his bike. “We’ll go tomorrow morning.” _Best get it over with as soon as possible._

“Thank you!”

Yuuri got onto his bike and rode home, not going over the speed limit in case it looked like he was running away.

 

The next morning the sun was out and doing an excellent job warming up the air in preparation for what would turn out to be, without a doubt, a perfect day for going to the beach. It did nothing to improve Yuuri’s mood, however.

He waited for Victor by his bike and handed him his spare helmet as soon as the Russian skater joined him.

“Put this on and – as much as I hate to say it – hold on tight.”

He climbed onto his bike and waited as Victor hesitated.

“What is it?”

“N-nothing.” He climbed on and wrapped his arms around Yuuri.

“And now for something straight out of a movie,” Yuuri muttered and off they went.

As always, he went over the speed limit and made sharp turns purely for the thrill.

He expected Victor’s grip to tighten or to hear a request to slow down, but Victor remained silent. Did that mean that he trusted Yuuri’s driving skills?

Yuuri took Victor to the part of the beach that had one significant advantage over all the other parts: it was almost always deserted.

Victor climbed off the bike reluctantly and followed Yuuri out towards the water. Yuuri sat down on the sand, not interested in swimming. Victor stood in front of him, clutching the helmet to his chest.

“We might as well swim, since we’re here.”

“Do whatever you want.” Yuuri reclined on the sand, not caring if it was going to get on his clothing.

“Don’t you want to have fun?”

“Swimming isn’t my definition of fun.”

Victor didn’t argue. He placed his helmet on the sand, stripped down to his swimming trunks and ran into the water.

“The water’s great!” he called out.

Yuuri remained silent. He watched the beach, waiting to see if any assassins were planning to appear out of thin air. But no one came. Somewhere in the distance an old couple walked their dog. The husband had his hand on his wife’s shoulder. Their dog ran back and forth excitedly.

Victor shouted something and Yuuri tore his gaze away from the dog.

“I said: can we go somewhere for lunch?”

“You can go wherever you want.”

He could leave him out here, get back on his bike and ride away and maybe Victor would get lost trying to find his way back and Yuuri would never see him again.

“I meant: let’s go somewhere together,” Victor walked up to him, the water dripping off his body.

“I don’t see why I have to have lunch with you.”

“Are you upset about something?”

“Upset – no, angry – yes.”

Victor sat down beside him. “How can I be your coach, if you keep pushing me away?”

Yuuri closed his eyes and said nothing. _I warned you._

There was a long silence as Victor waited for Yuuri to say something.

He took a shaky breath. “I love you, Yuuri.”

 _Oh great, now I know what this beach trip was really about._ “No, you don’t.”

He expected Victor to protest, but all he got was, “Will you contradict everything I say?”

“You don’t love me. You’re in love with an idealized version of me. You have this mental image of someone riding into danger shooting all the bad people and giving you a big kiss. Well, I’m not that person. And you barely know me, so you can’t really be in love with me.”

He opened his eyes and looked at Victor. His coach seemed to be giving his words serious consideration.

Yuuri sat up. “Let’s make a deal. I expect we’ll get to know each other well enough by the Grand Prix Final. And the way I see it, there are several things that could happen by then. Either of us might die. I’ll do my best to keep you alive, but if I die you don’t need to worry – no one really cares whether you’re dead or not (as long as you don’t make your own enemies). If you finally see the light and want out, I won’t hold you here against your will even if it happens before the final. I’ll just find someone else. I won’t deny that it’s possible that you’ll be a good coach. In that case, we might choose to go on as we are. That’s up to you. You have your competitive career to think about.”

“There’s one more possibility,” Victor whispered.

“Ah, yes, in the unlikely event that there are mutual feelings between us…” Yuuri smiled sarcastically, “then you’ll have to put up with danger for the rest of your life, which might not be that long.”

Victor lay down on the sand next to him. “I’m not used to making deals or plans. Do you think everything through like this all the time?”

“I have to.”

“What do you do if something unexpected happens?”

“Deal with it.”

Victor sat up and stared at the sea. “But life is never predictable. I thought I’d compete this season, yet here I am.” He sighed. “And I never expected that my confession would be contradicted.”

Yuuri said nothing.

“I’m going for another swim.” Victor got up.

 

Victor was quiet afterwards. When they got on the motorcycle to go for lunch he put his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders, instead of gripping him around the waist. He sat through lunch with a sad look on his face and barely said a word.

This suited Yuuri perfectly. He even took the scenic route home. It was wasted on Victor, though. Perhaps the reality of the situation was finally sinking in.

 _Will he leave now?_ Yuuri wondered.

When they got back Victor tried to be his usual self, but it was so unconvincing that Minako pulled Yuuri aside and demanded to know what had happened.

“Nothing,” Yuuri told her.

“You said something, didn’t you? Look at him! Yuuri, how could you?”

Yuuri didn’t say anything.

His mother was running around Victor, offering all kinds of food, but Victor wasn’t in the mood for any of it.

_He’s leaving. He’s actually leaving._

Yuuri made for his room. He didn’t need to explain anything to anyone.

The house was quiet at night, but Yuuri couldn’t sleep. He kept replaying the conversation in his head. _Just leave,_ he thought, _leave like they all did. I don’t want to deal with this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if this makes anyone feel better or worse, but eventually (and I estimate that to be 10-ish chapters from now) there will be smut in this story.


	8. A Business Partner

The next morning Victor was his usual cheery self at breakfast. Makkachin sat on his lap, wagging his tail as Victor played with his paws.

“Good morning!” he greeted Yuuri.

 _Dammit._ And, yet, a small part of him was pleased.

“Do you think Yuuri will get Eros today, Makkachin?”

Yuuri said nothing, as if he actually expected the dog to answer the question.

Makkachin barked excitedly and licked Victor’s face.

“I hope so too,” Victor said and grinned.

 _Does he think he’s the hero of a Studio Ghibli movie? …Or whatever equivalent they have in Russia? But I’ve met Yakov. He’s a very serious man. How did he put up with Victor’s antics? Is this another case of getting away with anything as long as you’re a legend? Or,_ and this thought pleased him infinitely more, _is the big baby missing his pacifier?_

“What are you smiling about?” Victor asked.

“Pacifiers.”

Victor gave him an odd look, but at that point Yuuri’s mom entered the room and the whole place was drowning in nauseating enthusiasm within moments.

What was there to do but to go to practice at that point, if only to escape the high concentration of joy in the air? Pretty much anything, as it turned out, because practice went very badly. Victor even joked about Yuuri’s inability to get it.

“It can’t all be about your costume, Yuuri,” he said once he’d stopped laughing at his own joke.

“I know,” Yuuri said sourly. _Why can’t I get it? Why is it that without that costume I can’t get it right at all? I know I cheated by playing to Victor’s weaknesses, but I don’t seem to get Eros at all._

“Don’t worry, as y – er, it’s my job to help you and I will make sure you get it before September comes.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Yuuri rolled his eyes. “And how – although I’m dreading the answer – exactly do you plan to help me?”

Victor skated up to Yuuri and held out his hands.

“You’re joking, right?”

“No, I’m not. I want you to forget I’m your coach and to forget I’m Victor Nikiforov for a while.”

“Why?”

“Because that seems to bother you for some reason.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Then prove it.”

Yuuri sighed. “Alright. I’ll try it your way.” He put his hands in Victor’s.

Victor pulled him along. “You don’t like lectures, I can see that. I want you to just follow along and think about desire. Anything that comes to mind. It doesn’t matter what it is.”

“And then what? Do I just give you a list or something? Or is this some kind of word game?”

“You don’t need to say anything.”

They went around in a circle. Yuuri thought about staying upright and not getting in Victor’s way. He’d never done this before and it turned out that it wasn’t as easy as it looked.

_God, you’d think we were competing in pair skating! He just found a new way to flirt with me, hasn’t he?_

“Turn around,” Victor said.

“What?”

“Turn around and give me your hands. You’re too distracted. Look out onto the ice and think about what I said.”

He turned around. _This is a waste of time. What does desire mean to me? I’m not a damn dictionary or a thesaurus! I’d rather be out on my bike going as fast as I can, breaking the speed limit._

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, cutting into his thoughts.

“What?”

“Slow down!”

“Why? Can’t you keep up?”

Victor laughed. “This isn’t speed skating, you know!” Yuuri felt Victor pull himself closer. “If you want to go faster…” he offered.

Yuuri nodded without thinking.

Victor kicked off and they went faster.

“Is this fast enough for you?” he asked after several minutes.

“Not quite.” Yuuri turned around and took Victor’s hands in his own. There was something thrilling about going backwards at breakneck speed.

“Now what?” Victor asked.

“Now you don’t let me hit anything,” Yuuri said with just the hint of a threat in his voice.

“And then?”

“We’ll stop when you’re tired.”

When the mad race ended Victor called it a day. He didn’t say anything about the fact that they’d barely trained or the supposed point of the exercise.

Yuuri held his helmet out to Victor, having no spare with him this time. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you what real speed is like.”

Victor took it with a quiet “Thank you”.

They went fast again and Yuuri thought only about the speed and not at all about the way Victor clung to him, his head over Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Why do you like to go fast?” Victor asked once they’d arrived.

“I don’t know. I never thought about it.” He shrugged. “It just feels right.”

They had lunch and then Yuuri left the house on an important errand. It was time to talk to some informants.

 

It was late in the evening. Yuuri was standing outside a bar with a beautiful woman by his side. She smiled and slipped a hand into his jacket. He returned the smile and gave a slight nod. She pulled her hand away and offered him a cigarette.

“You always spoil me,” he responded, taking one from her hand and lighting it.

Too late he noticed – so preoccupied he’d been with his companion – Victor striding purposefully across the street, angry and flustered. He didn’t even stop when someone on the street yelled obscenities at him.

“Yuuri!” he exclaimed and slapped the cigarette out of his hand. “How dare you?”

“You’ll have to excuse Victor,” Yuuri said to his companion. “My coach seems to think he’s also my mom.”

“That’s so sweet,” the woman said and gave Victor a smile all of his own, exhaling a cloud of smoke. Then she nodded at Yuuri. “I look forward to seeing you again.”

“Me too,” he said and watched her leave.

“Yuuri! Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you since lunchtime!” Victor exclaimed, but Yuuri shushed him with a raised hand.

A car drove up and the lady got in. They watched the car disappear around the corner.

Yuuri grabbed Victor by the arm and dragged him away. “Don’t you dare ever do that again!”

“Yuuri! You have a girlfriend and you didn’t even tell me!” Victor sounded more hurt than jealous.

“She’s not my girlfriend, she’s…” Yuuri paused and looked around. Then he leaned closer and whispered, “You’re not to breathe a word of this to anyone, got it?”

“I’m already keeping so many secrets for you. What is she, then?”

“A business partner. That woman is the most dangerous person in the country.”

“I thought that was _your_ job.”

“Hah!” Yuuri walked off and Victor hurried after him.

“But you – she – You let her touch you!”

“Because it’s important to keep her happy. You’re lucky she took a shine to you, otherwise you wouldn’t still have all of your bits attached.”

Victor stuttered at this.

Yuuri smiled as an idea occurred to him. “If you like dangerous people so much, she should suit you better than me.”

“I- I- I…” it took Victor three tries to get the words out properly, “I’m not attracted to women.”

“Of course not.” Yuuri ran a hand through his hair with a smile. “I happen to think she’s beautiful and fun, in her own way.”

Victor stopped and Yuuri took in his expression.

“Before you get carried away, I haven’t slept with her. I’m not suicidal.”

“When you were with her… That was…” Victor gave Yuuri a surprised look. “I thought you didn’t understand Eros, but that was spot on!”

_Only you can think about skating at a time like this. I was talking to Death and you very nearly made her angry and here we are talking about my short program. Where did he see Eros in that anyway? Is he hallucinating now too?_

“Don’t you see, Yuuri?” Victor grabbed Yuuri’s hands. “You can do it!”

“Hooray, what an amazing discovery,” Yuuri said sarcastically and pulled his hands free. “You can do it, Yuuri!” he repeated, rolling his eyes. “My coach has motivated me now I can do anything!”

“You’re being sarcastic again, aren’t you?” Victor asked.

“Give the boy a prize.”

“Yuuri, can you be serious for a moment?” Victor said as they continued walking. “You don’t actually smoke, do you?”

“When she offers you a cigarette, you don’t refuse it. You also keep your eyes on her hands to make sure she doesn’t pickpocket you.” He looked around, studying the street as they went.

“But I saw her put a hand in your pocket!”

“That wasn’t pickpocketing.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

“I don’t understand why you do this, Yuuri. Why can’t you just be a skater like me? Why do you do all of this?” Victor ran ahead of him, making Yuuri stop.

“You’re not going to give me a lecture on morals, are you?” Yuuri asked wearily. “Because I will save you the trouble and ask you to go back to Russia.”

“What I mean is – why are you risking your life so much and making so many enemies when you can just… be a regular skater?”

“Because life is boring without some risk.” Yuuri shrugged, “And probably because the hot springs just don’t bring in as much money as they used to.” He pushed past Victor and kept walking.

“And what would your parents think if they knew where the money came from?”

“Is that a threat?”

“Of course not! But one day you will make a mistake, or someone will say something and they will know. What will you do then?”

Yuuri considered his answer before answering. “I’d have to move somewhere else, since they’d disown me.”

“Why would they do that? They love you, Yuuri!”

“That’s their mistake.”

Victor took Yuuri’s hand. “I love you,” he said quietly. There was just the hint of a blush on his cheeks.

 _Not again. It’s only been one day!_ “That’s your mistake,” Yuuri told him, snatching his hand away.

“You said I’d like you less if I got to know you, but the better I know you, the more I like you. It’s been that way ever since I got here.”

“I can’t help you there.”

“Why do you always have to be sarcastic? I know you have a kind heart.”

“No, you _think_ I have a kind heart and that’s not the same thing.” Yuuri stopped. “You _hope_ I have a kind heart, because the alternative is that you fell in love with a bastard and that’s not something you want to think about.”

“Did someone hurt you, Yuuri?”

“You mean apart from those people trying to kill me?” He went on, scanning his surroundings as usual. “No, I didn’t have any childhood trauma. This is just the way I am. And I’m not going to change for you, or for anyone else.”

“I don’t want you to change,” Victor whispered. “I like you the way you are.”

For the first time in his life Yuuri couldn’t bring himself to say something sarcastic to Victor. _That’s it. I’m weakening. It’s over._


	9. I’m Dead, Yuuri

When Victor arrived at the ice rink one morning two weeks later Yuuri was already there, listening to loud heavy metal music. The coach waited patiently for the song to end before asking:

“What is that?”

Yuuri smiled. “My free skate music. I call it Yuuri on Ice. I commissioned it from a song writer I know.” He hit the play button again. “Do you think you can choreograph something to this?”

“Depends on what you want to do.”

“With a title like mine people will expect a skate reflecting on my life with all that sentimental drivel about a great journey and hope for what lies ahead.” Yuuri paused and waited for Victor’s response. He’d thought a lot about this over the last few days.

“And?”

“I want you to choreograph just that.”

“You do?”

“Yes. And then I will skate it…” he had a manic grin on his face, “sarcastically.”

“Sarcastically? I’ve never heard of anyone doing that,” Victor said, “but if anyone can, that person is you.”

Yuuri mouthed the lyrics, turned around and repeated bits of Victor’s program. Lyrical moments were turned on their head and looked insincere.

Victor watched.

Yuuri jumped a quad, landed and kept going.

When the music ended, he stopped. “Well?”

“It suits your personality,” Victor said with a sigh.

“What’s wrong, Snowflake? Sad I’m not skating something lyrical in earnest?”

“A little,” Victor admitted.

 

They were nearing the end of practice when Yuuri noticed Yuuko watching them. _Oh good, an audience_. She watched them in silence until her husband joined her and they started to talk to each other. Yuuri did his best to block their voices out.

“I think we should call it a day,” Victor said at last, stopping to catch his breath.

“Go take a nap. I’m going to try it again,” Yuuri insisted, referring to the quadruple Salchow.

“You can keep going? You have a lot more stamina than me.”

_So would you if you were chased by multiple gunmen on a regular basis and then had to sneak back into your room and act as if nothing had happened just in case your parents decided to walk in._

Victor stayed at his spot and watched Yuuri jump over and over again.

They converged on the other end of the ice rink beside Yuuko and Takeshi.

“Satisfied?”

“It will do, Snowflake.”

Yuuko laughed. “That’s such a cute nickname! How did you think of it?”

“Because of his hair,” Yuuri said, without even stopping to think.

“What? My hair isn’t white!” Victor protested.

“What colour is it, then? Grey?”

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed. _Oh God, he’s got his hand over his heart. What the hell is wrong with him?_ “How could you?”

_So let me get this straight: you are more bothered by me implying that you’re old than my contradicting your confession?_

“Oh yeah, you look like the oldest man on the planet,” Yuuri went on mercilessly. “Like you probably remember the dinosaurs from when they first appeared.”

“Yuuri!” everyone exclaimed.

Yuuri laughed. “Come on, old man, practice is over.”

Victor dropped onto the ice. “I can’t take this, Yuuri.”

“No, you really can’t,” Yuuri left the ice to the sounds of Yuuko and Takeshi laughing.

“You’re getting along well!” Yuuko said.

_Oh really well. Any minute now we’re going to get married. That’s just how well we’re getting along._

Several minutes later he returned, having changed out of his skates, to find Victor still in the same position, doing a passable impersonation of a corpse (except for the breathing).

“Is that a new training technique, coach?”

“I’m dead, Yuuri.”

“If you say so.” He reached down and picked Victor up, draping him over one shoulder and carrying him away. “In that case,” he added once he was out of earshot of both Yuuko and Takeshi, “I’ll have to find you a coffin. The Nishigoris get really upset when they find corpses on the ice, even though that’s the proper way to store them.”

He carried Victor into the change room and dropped him onto one of the benches.

Victor opened his mouth, but Yuuri beat him to it.

“Wow, Yuuri, you’re really strong!” Yuuri said, imitating Victor’s voice. “Can you carry me home in your _strong_ arms?”

Victor stared with his mouth wide open.

“Of course, Victor,” Yuuri went on, imitating himself this time, “after all I am basically a people-carrying service! I carry people all the time. Usually when they’re dead, never really when they’re alive. Just a little detail, nothing important.”

“Yuuri…”

“Great! Now we got that over with, was there anything else you wanted to say?”

“Yuuri, I –”

“Dear God, if you’re going to say that one more time…”

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Perfect! Now you have something to think about when you go home.”

“You’re not going home?”

Yuuri pulled his jacket on. “I’ll make a detective of you yet.” Then he stopped and gave Victor a long stare. He shook off an odd thought and kept talking, “Right. I’m going to talk to people who know many interesting things (including how to saw off your arm in 5 minutes) to see if they happen to know some things that may interest me. You go straight home and don’t leave, understand? Don’t go on a “heroic quest” to find me. I will be back in the evening.”

“But –”

“Now, be a good boy and run along.”

 

The end of the summer was punctuated by the arrival of a letter for Yuuri Katsuki. Victor discovered it and brought it in to show off like some sort of medal to the whole family.

“Look, Yuuri! You got a letter from a fan!”

Yuuri held out his hand for it and Victor had no choice but to give it to him.

“Open it now! I want to know what it says!” He was so excited he was almost jumping on the spot.

Yuuri eyed him warily and sighed. “I’d rather read it in private. It’s so embarrassing.” That said, he rose to his feet and returned to his room.

The letter was covered in stamps and Yuuri’s name had hearts around it. On the back were the words “Yuuri Katsuki is the best skater ever!” The return address claimed it was from Yuuri’s number 1 fan.

Yuuri shook his head. She overdid it as always. For several years now this was her way of passing along information after he’d sought her out and asked her for it. Opening this seemingly harmless letter was always a task to be carried out in private: each letter was booby-trapped. For some reason, she thought it was funny to send information about the underground to Yuuri disguised as fanmail and full of deadly contents. One time, for example, she’d sent a parcel with a poisonous snake.

Yuuri put on a pair of plastic gloves, covered the table with newspapers and opened the letter. It wasn’t actively trying to kill him this time. He wondered why. Then he read the note.

Ah. That was why.

_PS. Send my love to your coach._

_Very funny._

He dropped the letter and ran back into the living room to find Victor playing with Makkachin.

She wouldn’t. Would she?

He walked up to Victor and stopped. Makkachin was licking his hands and face, but if there had been something on the letter, the dog would've died by now, wouldn’t he? He watched Makkachin carefully for another minute and let out a sigh.

“Yuuri! What did the letter say?”

“Nothing interesting, but don’t ever take my mail again.”

“Why not?”

“Yuuri is very sensitive about his mail,” his mother piped in.

Yuuri nodded. _Will you get the hint, or do I have to draw you a picture?_

Victor smiled. “Ok.”


	10. You Already Did

He was losing blood and lots of it. The pain was overwhelming all his other senses, but he kept going. _Keep moving and I might just stay alive. Might. Better than definitely die. Got to keep going. There! A light there! Just… up the wall like this, through the window like this and down onto the floor like this._

“Ow!”

_Maybe not like that._

“Yuuri!”

He’d landed on his stomach at least. And on his face, but that was just detail.

_I can’t… I won’t…_ He couldn’t even think properly. Couldn’t form complete thoughts.

Everything was pain and hate. Everything hurt and he despised everything. He especially despised whoever it was that kept shouting his name.

“Shut up,” he croaked. “Just… Shut. Up.”

“Yuuri,” the person whispered, “what happened?”

He raised his head, supporting himself on his knees and elbows and hoping he wasn’t bleeding onto the floor. “What the hell do you think happened? I… ugh… I went to the beach for a swim and…” He barely had the energy for sarcasm and that was unthinkable.

“Yuuri!” Victor’s face swam into view. “What… What do I do?”

“Lost puppy,” Yuuri said, feeling slightly delirious from all of the pain. Then he mentally kicked himself. “You are a lost… you look like a… Look! Just get the goddamn first aid kit, alright?” He dropped his head and fought down the urge to cough up blood. Or just cough. He wasn’t sure which it was and wasn’t going to risk finding out. “Before I bleed … onto your floor.”

Victor fussed over him, pulling off his shirt and jacket, treating the wound and then bandaging it. Yuuri bit his lip and swore under his breath.

“What a wonderful floor…” he muttered, unable to fight it. “I think…”

And then darkness.

 

Victor sat on the floor next to Yuuri’s unconscious form. He’d bandaged the wound as best as he could, but he was no doctor.

Yuuri needed medical attention. There was a big gash in his back and he’d lost a lot of blood.

_What do I do? If I take him to the hospital, people will ask questions! But if I leave him here, he’ll die!_

He tried to remember what he knew about wounds, but it wasn’t much. The few times he’d injured himself he’d gone to the doctor and let them sort it out. If only he’d paid attention! What did he need to do?

Victor sat next to Yuuri all night long, terrified and at a complete loss. Would Yuuri bleed to death right next to him in his own house?

He shifted closer, picked up Yuuri’s head and clutched it to his chest. It was silly, he knew. He just hoped Yuuri would wake up soon and make fun of him for it. Yuuri’s body was splayed over Victor’s legs at an awkward angle.

_What do I do if you don’t wake up? How long do I wait before I call for help?_ His heart beat faster in his chest. He’d never felt terror like this before.

As dawn started to break he stared down at Yuuri’s unconscious form. Even in his condition Yuuri had an angry look on his face.

_Pain,_ Victor realized. _He’s not angry. He’s in pain._

Then the right hand shifted, trying to get a grip on something and then the left and…

Suddenly Victor was aware of the fact that both hands were gripping him. “Ah!”

“What the –” Yuuri’s hands went to the floor and he raised his head. “What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?” he exclaimed in a tone just above a whisper.

“I… uh… I thought… you’d want…” Victor stuttered as all the blood rushed to his face.

“What?” he tried to lift himself and tumbled back down. “Well it looks like it’s your lucky day, Snowflake.”

“L-lucky day?”

“Yes. You’ve got me plastered on top of you and I can’t even move. Now what?”

Victor was at a loss for words. Something whistled behind him.

“God-freaking-dammit!” Yuuri pushed him down to the floor as something flew through the window. Somehow he found the strength to rise to his feet and drag himself to examine the object.

Victor lay on the floor, his head spinning.

“That woman!” Yuuri hissed, throwing whatever it was back out the window. He turned around with his hands on his head and said, “Painkillers! What the hell do I need to do to get some painkillers?”

He looked ready to drop. Victor leapt up, caught him and dragged him to the bed.

Yuuri muttered something into the pillow the moment he hit it and laughed darkly as Victor searched for painkillers.

 

Several hours later Yuuri sent Victor after a doctor he trusted and on a mission to help set up a cover story. The cover story caught Victor by surprise.

Yuuri Katsuki had a double.

He went around to Yuuri’s usual places to be seen, but not to be seen for long, so that everyone had a sense of Yuuri being elsewhere. But where? Everywhere all at once while the real Yuuri Katsuki slept in Victor’s bedroom. Victor never got a good look at him, but he was completely certain that he didn’t measure up to the real Yuuri.

The doctor came, dismissed the wound as nothing serious, changed the dressing, took Yuuri’s money and left. Victor stayed to watch over Yuuri and tried not to think about how frightening the doctor was.

 

“I need to go back to my room,” Yuuri said the following morning. “I’ve had as much mother Victor as I can handle.”

Even in pain he wouldn’t stop making sarcastic remarks. Victor wondered how he still had the strength to do that.

“Yuuri, I can’t move you,” he insisted. “What if your wound opens?”

“I’ll be fine. Fine, just freaking fine.”

Victor shifted his chair closer. “Can I get you something else instead? Maybe a glass of water?”

“It’s mother Victor again… ugh…” He rolled his eyes. “Next you’ll be offering me tea and cake.”

“ _Do_ you want some?”

Yuuri stared up into his face. “Yeah, whatever, if it means you will stop asking.”

 

After a week Yuuri was on the ice again and the double that had so mysteriously appeared, vanished equally mysteriously. Victor watched his pupil skate as if nothing had happened. But the occasional wince gave away how much effort it cost.

“Yuuri, you can’t –”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, alright?” Yuuri snapped.

In his current state he was ready to go looking for a deadly situation simply out of spite. Victor decided not to push it.

But still the situation bothered him. Could Yuuri skate with a cut like that?

“Listen, Yuuri, if you miss the podium, I’ll take responsibility and resign as your coach,” Victor said once practice was over.

Yuuri looked up at him from where he was sitting on the bench. “And why the hell would I do something as stupid as that?”

“Because you’re wounded. No one should have to skate in your condition. Are you sure you –”

“Sure. Run away. Run away like all of them did. You finally get it and you want out. Why don’t you just say so?”

“Yuuri,” Victor put a hand on Yuuri’s arm.

“Don’t ‘Yuuri’ me!” Yuuri pushed him away and stood up to face his coach. “Don’t hide behind nice words! I understand: you’ve seen what they did to me and you finally see how serious this is. Go! I’m not going to hold you here against your will!” He pointed at the door as something glinted in his eyes.

Victor’s eyes widened in surprise.

“I’ve been tortured before. I’ve had bullet wounds and knife wounds. So what should I care if coach after coach ditches me? I’ll just find another one! You’re all a dime-a-dozen anyway!” Yuuri turned away.

“Yuuri, I didn’t… I don’t… I’m sorry.”

“ _Sorry_? You’re _sorry_? I’ll _bet_ you are! What a waste of a season! What a waste of so much valuable time! Time that keeps running out on all of us!”

Victor reached out as if to put his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders, but still he kept his distance. “I didn’t mean it. I just thought –”

“You thought you could just barge in and make decisions for me? My decisions are my own! If I make a mistake it’s on me! I don’t want someone sweeping in and graciously _accepting responsibility_!” he spat the words as he said them. He turned around to face Victor and the coach could see Yuuri’s eyes were dry now. “You want to leave? Then leave. Screw off! Get lost! And don’t come back! I don’t want to see your stupid smug face ever again!”

He turned away and stood there, as if really waiting for Victor to walk away.

“I don’t want to leave,” Victor said quietly. “I want to stay with you.”

Yuuri hmphed loudly.

“I’m sorry… I just thought. I thought it was the best way to hide the truth.”

“This isn’t my first year in competitive skating. I can come up with my own cover story, if I need one. So I don’t need your _charity_ or pity! In fact,” he turned and looked at Victor, “I don’t need anything from _you_.”

He pulled his jacket on and stormed out, slamming the door as he left.

 

Two hours later Yuuri was sitting on a bench outside with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at the people walking past him.

“Yuuri,” Victor was suddenly there, “can I sit with you?”

“It’s not against the law.”

“I will leave, if you want me to.”

Yuuri shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“You don’t care if I leave and you have to go looking for another coach?”

“Whatever,” he shrugged again.

“Yuuri.” Victor sat down next to him and moved closer, but still kept his distance. “I will only leave if you tell me to.”

Yuuri scoffed and shook his head, still studying the people around them.

“How can I make it up to you?”

“No one said you had to.”

“I want to,” Victor insisted. _Please let me make it up to you somehow._

“That’s your problem.”

There was a short pause.

“I love you and –”

Yuuri pinched his cheek. “Okay, okay, I forgive you. Just stop already!”

Victor put his hand to where Yuuri’s had touched his face.

“If you cry right now, I swear –” Yuuri warned.

“You forgive me?”

“Yes.”

“Honestly?” Victor insisted.

“Yes.”

“You’re not being sarcastic?”

“No.” Yuuri rolled his eyes. He saw the look on Victor’s face and stood up. “Let’s go back. I have a competition tomorrow.”

They walked together and Victor recounted a funny thing that had happened to him a few years ago. Yuuri only half-listened, watching the crowd as always. Victor got to the end of his story and Yuuri just nodded. They walked on in silence after that. The silence continued all the way up to Yuuri’s room.

They stopped at the door.

“I want to do something for you,” Victor said quietly.

“Why?”

“Because… because I want to.”

Yuuri’s lips twitched in what might have been a smile. “You already did.” He opened the door of his room and went inside, locking Victor out.


	11. I Bet His Coach Still Ties His Shoelaces

In a surprising turn of events the day of the Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu Championship arrived completely uneventfully. Yuuri sat with the other skaters, waiting for his turn to draw a number that would determine when he would skate.

_They’re all kids. I wonder if their parents know they’re here._

The skater next to him seemed to be the most excited of them all and Yuuri fought the urge to edge away. _Just call my name already! All this delaying is a pointless waste of time! Oh no, the tension is just killing me! Will I go first, second, third or fourth? Who cares what order you go in? Just assign them randomly and let’s get on with it! I have a competition to win._

Suddenly the kid next to him decided to talk. “Yuuri! It’s so exciting to compete against you again!”

“Who the hell are you?”

“Don’t you remember me? I thought… I –”

“Hold on, I just realized something.”

The kid nearly leapt out of his chair. “You mean you remember me?”

“No, I realized I don’t care.”

“But, Yuuri, you must remember me! I’m Minami Kenjiro and –”

“And you can end it right there. I don’t want to overload my memory with useless information.”

He watched the kid deflate in his seat. _Wow, he actually looks like a balloon. I don’t think I’ve seen that before._

“Yuuri Katsuki,” they called out.

Yuuri strode over to the organizers, trying to look like he cared for their silly ceremony. They tried to delay him and build up the tension, but he just held out his hand for the bag with the numbers.

“And the number for Yuuri Katsuki is…” the presenter said in what he probably thought was a very dramatic tone. To Yuuri he sounded like the voice frequently used for movie trailers.

Yuuri held it up.

“Number one!”

_And let that be a sign._ He handed it over to them as they made some sort of speech and walked out.

The kid, whose name Yuuri had already erased from his memory, caught up with him in the hallway.

“Yuuri!” he called.

Yuuri kept walking as if he hadn’t heard him, but then the kid ran in front of him.

“Good luck today, Yuuri!”

“I don’t need luck, only skill. That’s what you need to be a good skater. Luck has nothing to do with it.”

“Will you watch me skate?”

“Why?”

“I dedicated my skate to you, Yuuri.”

_Is there some sort of disease that people get that makes them so happy-go-lucky and for some reason obsessed with me? If so, is there a cure? My coach could use one._

“Get lost, kid.” Yuuri pushed past him and kept going.

A woman ran down the hall towards the kid. Yuuri heard him start crying and the lady trying to comfort him.

_Is that his coach or his mom? Speaking of moms, where is Snowflake?_

There were excited screams – or maybe they were squeals – from the crowd and Yuuri rolled his eyes. _There he is._ He watched someone in the crowd actually faint and wondered what new madness was afflicting Victor now.

“Yuuri!” Victor called and the crowd parted for him.

_Seriously? This is a skating competition, not a fashion show!_ Victor was dressed in a brand new suit that looked expensive. He wore a trench coat over it for the complete I’m-about-to-take-a-photo-for-a-magazine look. _I wonder what he will do if he gets blood on his clothes. Probably cry more than junior over there._

“There you are,” Yuuri said. “I thought you fell asleep, but I can see now that you went on a shopping trip instead. Did you get me anything?”

“I… uh…” Victor stuttered. “Did you want something?”

_A gun would be nice._ But he merely turned around and headed for the ice rink. “Come on. Are you going to watch me practice and give me the motivational speech I don’t want to hear or not?”

 

Victor waited until after practice to give Yuuri the motivational speech he didn’t want to hear.

To Yuuri’s ears it sounded like this: “The sun is shining in the sky and the weather is nice, so you should skate really well today.”

What Victor had actually said was: “Yuuri, I want you to keep your jumps simple and focus on getting Eros right.”

“Yes,” Yuuri said.

Victor went on, oblivious to the fact that Yuuri wasn’t listening. It didn’t look like he was planning on stopping any time within the next century or two.

Yuuri slipped a hand into the inside pocket of Victor’s suit, found the handkerchief there and pulled it out. “Here,” he said, handing it to him, and shrugged off his coat.

His wound had healed, but the scar was still visible and Yuuri just knew that the press would come up with one or two outrageous theories to try to explain it. He looked forward to making fun of them later.

Victor stopped talking the moment Yuuri touched him, but his mouth was left hanging open.

Yuuri smirked, put a hand under Victor’s chin and closed his mouth. “Try not to bleed on your new suit,” he said and skated out onto the ice.

His business partner would be watching, he knew, and she would be laughing herself sick. The fact that it was Victor would probably make it even funnier for her.

Usually he could turn her merriment at his expense to his advantage. He could tell her he was only doing it for her entertainment and use it as a way to stay in her good books, but not this time. This time he’d done it for a different reason.

Something was going around in the air and he was starting to catch it. What the hell was it?

And then the music started and the commentator launched into his usual spiel about the rebirth of Yuuri Katsuki (making him sound like he was some kind of phoenix) and he forgot all about it. He focused on his jumps instead. If he jumped quads they’d think he was taking the other competitors seriously, but if he didn’t would they assume he couldn’t?

He had one of those thoughts that, once it latches on, is nearly impossible to shake off: _what would Snowflake want?_

_What the hell does it matter? What do I want?_

But the question nagged at him. It was easy enough to answer. Victor would want him to not go all out with his injury.

He jumped a quad and landed it perfectly. _What will he say to that?_

He kept going, flubbed one jump, landed another one and skated as if it had all been part of the planned routine. The question seemed to chase him around the rink.

_I don’t care,_ he kept trying to tell himself, but he couldn’t convince himself.

And then the answer to a different question presented itself to his brain for consideration. It arrived late and didn’t bring any satisfaction, only more questions.

_What does Eros mean to me? Flirting with death._ Not Death, the nickname he’d given to his business partner, but death the concept itself. The idea that any minute could be his last. _Fat load of good that does me for my short program! But how does this advice work anyway? Even if – for argument’s sake – I was in love with someone, how would this work? Each time I go out on the ice I’m supposed to try to seduce that person? That’s ridiculous! Is that what everyone else does?_

The next thought in the conga line of mad thoughts was: _If I pretended to be Victor to skate the lyrical programs I used to have, how much harder would it be to just pretend to seduce him? Hypothetically, of course. Yes, hypothetically speaking, it would be really easy. He goes red at a simple smirk. So, if I were to try something else, then – hypothetically – it would work. But only hypothetically._

The music ended and he struck the final pose, breathless and trying desperately to unthink everything that he was thinking in that moment. The turmoil went on as he got off the ice and received his scores.

95.1

He hadn’t messed up many jumps, then.

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, throwing his arms around his pupil. “Yuuri! That was amazing!”

“And here I thought that I got 95.1 for a terrible short program.”

“But what was with the triple axel?” Victor asked and launched into a long lecture.

Yuuri listened for several minutes before interrupting. “Hold on.”

“What is it?”

“Can you start from the beginning? I’m going to take notes.”

And he really did start at the beginning, completely oblivious of Yuuri’s tone or the more obvious fact that Yuuri had nothing to take notes with.

 

Imagine a music competition where all but one of the competitors play the recorder and not just the recorder, but _Mary Had a Little Lamb_ on the recorder (with possibly that one person who decides to be original and play _Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star_ ). They all play one by one and everyone claps politely, feeling like the parents at a concert held by a music teacher for her students. And then the last contestant comes forward and plays the violin and as their piece they pick _The Devil’s Trill Sonata_ and they go on for a good 14 minutes before the music ends. Now take this image and translate it to figure skating and you will have a vague notion of how Yuuri Katsuki felt at the end of his free skate. Add some anger at the universe in general and Celestino in particular and you will have an even better notion of how Yuuri Katsuki felt.

Did he flub one or two jumps? Yes, he did. But did he jump quads unlike everyone else? Of course. Despite his coach’s words? Definitely. No, _because_ of his coach’s words.

And Yuuri Katsuki walked away with the same feeling of satisfaction as the violinist in the music competition full of recorder players, that is to say, no satisfaction at all.

_Why did I have to compete with them? Why did I have to miss the Japanese Nationals last year because of stupid Celestino, forcing me to compete here with a bunch of kids?_

“What are you thinking about?” Victor asked.

“How annoying it is that kindergartens let the kids out early to let them compete against me. They should’ve kept them after hours to do more sums or whatever.”

“Yuuri!”

“Look at this kid,” Yuuri said, pointing to one of the skaters at random. “I bet you he just learned how to tie his shoelaces yesterday.” He considered the skater thoughtfully. “Never mind, I bet his coach _still_ ties his shoelaces.”

“Yuuri!”

But the best part – or the worst part, depending on your point of view – was the fact that when Yuuri’s performance ended it was glaringly obvious that the sarcasm had gone over the audience’s collective head. They cheered and clapped and tossed things onto the ice.

Yuuri always wondered where that tradition had come from. At some point in human history someone had sat down and decided that when someone else finished their skate and they liked it they would toss flowers and plush toys onto the ice. Where they mad, drunk, or just odd? Maybe there had once been a time when they threw something useful like money and then someone sat in the audience without any cash, but with either flowers, or a toy, or some other strange object and just tossed that for lack of anything else to throw. Just his luck to be born in the age of flower and toy-tossing. And underwear-tossing. That was one time he didn’t want to think about. At all.

Victor was saying something, but Yuuri couldn’t concentrate on his words.

_Who the hell tosses their underwear onto the ice?_ The memory just wouldn’t leave him in peace. _And why? Is it supposed to mean something? And,_ and this was a question that really bothered him, _did it happen to everyone or only to him?_

Celestino had diplomatically avoided explanations at the time. Phichit had to go to a different room to calm down after a solid 5 minutes of laughing and when he came back he had to leave again almost right away.

_Madmen._

“Yuuri, are you listening?”

“Hmmm? What? Oh, no, I don’t agree with anything you just said.”

Victor smiled. “What’s troubling you, Yuuri?”

“Nothing, just…” He eyed Victor and decided not to risk it. “It’s not important.”

His mind was on a true masochistic streak, it seemed, because the next topic presented for internal review was: What would Victor do if that happened to him? The amount of different options at this point was… He burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“You are.”

There was the annoying press conference to look forward to (or, rather, dread). Everyone would be watching, including his entire family and that was the main reason he couldn’t go up there and present his real theme for the season: sarcasm. So he presented a more acceptable one: changes. That was what he told Victor as well. It really pleased him, for some reason.

 

The next evening Yuuri returned home with someone else’s blood on his hands and ran into Victor waiting for him in front of his room.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was worried! Yuuri, you’re hurt!”

“It’s not mine,” Yuuri told him.

Victor gripped his arms near the elbows, well out of the way of the stains and stared into his face. “I was terrified.”

“Of what? Did you have a bad dream?”

“I thought something happened to you.” Victor put his forehead against Yuuri’s chest, which shouldn’t have been possible with how much taller he was than Yuuri, but he managed to bend over enough to pull it off.

“Yeah, I killed someone.”

He waited for Victor to shout, or back away, or give him some kind of speech, but he just wrapped his arms around Yuuri and pulled himself closer.

“Don’t be stupid. It’s just…”

Victor raised his head and resumed his usual height. There were tears on his face.

They stared at each other and Yuuri had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

_I will meet you in front of your room at midnight by the light of the full moon and my heart will beat strongly in my chest as I cry these tears for you? I bet he thought something along those lines when he waited for me to come back._

“Let me wash it off,” Victor whispered, dragging Yuuri down the hall.

_And then you’ll wash my feet too?_ Yuuri couldn’t help thinking.

Victor made a huge ceremony of it: washing them one hand at a time with both of his and then looking for cuts and bruises.

_Mother Victor strikes again,_ Yuuri thought, but remained silent.

When Victor got convinced that Yuuri wasn’t hurt after all he lifted one of the hands to his cheek.

“Please be careful, Yuuri…” he whispered, closing his eyes, “if something were to happen to you…”

They’d all demanded something from Yuuri over the years, as if he was their personal slave. Do this, do that. The gangs and their leaders always looked for a weakness to exploit, some way to manipulate him. Some days it seemed that the whole world wanted something from Yuuri Katsuki.

So what did Victor want?

He thought of one answer and looked into Victor’s face to see if it was right.

Victor took Yuuri’s face in his hands. He looked ready to confess again. Yuuri waited for it. He waited for Victor to do something else as well, like invite him to his room. Victor closed his mouth and said nothing. He was only inches away, each inch as long as a mile.

Victor stepped back and released Yuuri. “Good night,” he said and left.


	12. I Do What I Want

_The Cup of China_

Dramatis Personae

Yuuri Katsuki (Japanese skater and a very dangerous man)

Phichit Chulanont (Thai skater and a blackmailer with an innocent face)

Christophe Giacometti (Swiss skater and an innocent man by some standards)

Georgi Popovich (Russian skater and currently very heartbroken)

Guang Hong Ji (Chinese skater and not as innocent as he looks)

Leo de la Iglesia (American skater and worried his description won’t do him justice)

Victor Nikiforov (Russian skater, living legend, the light of Russia’s eyes and sometimes a coach)

A big chorus of coaches, commentators, fans, random members of the audience who aren’t sure they want to be there and the ice rink (who has no choice on whether or not to be there).

 

After a practice full of avoiding both Celestino and Yakov, Yuuri met up with Phichit to discuss plans for dinner. In theory, anyway.

“Word on the street is that there is something going on between you and your coach,” Phichit said as they walked down the hall away from the change room. “I’d be careful, if I were you.”

“It would be much easier if I knew who it was who keeps sending people to kill me.”

Phichit smiled, seeing the frustration on Yuuri’s face. “Any luck?”

“No. I’ve been sent around in circles. Someone is either very rich, or very powerful, or both. Or something else I can’t think of right now.” Yuuri frowned. “Either way, I will find out who it is eventually.” _And when I do I will make sure they suffer before I kill them._

“And what about Victor?”

“What about him?” Yuuri asked as if the question hadn’t been bothering him for the several months.

“Will you keep him as your coach?”

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Yuuri pointed out.

“There’s always a choice.”

They walked on in silence for a while.

Yuuri heard someone sneak up behind him, spun around and grabbed him by the arm. It turned out to be Christophe Giacometti – Victor’s closest friend. Perhaps, because of his reputation, or – quite possibly – for an entirely different reason, every time Chris spoke Yuuri’s brain translated his words into flirting. He often wondered how exactly his friendship worked with Victor.

“Hello, Yuuri,” Chris smiled, trying to appear innocent.

“Keep your hands off me,” Yuuri growled, “or so help me…”

Chris backed off.

“Yuuri!” They heard Victor shout as he dashed down the corridor.

“Maybe a false rumour or two wouldn’t hurt…” Yuuri muttered as an aside for Phichit’s ears only.

Phichit shrugged.

“Oh, hello, Yakov!” Victor exclaimed, noticing his coach further down the hall.

Yakov turned away and walked off with his pupil Georgi at his side. Victor followed them and Yuuri and Phichit completed the impromptu parade at the rear. Chris found somewhere else to be.

Yakov’s patience ran out 5 minutes later. He stopped and turned around to snap at Victor. “Don’t talk to me unless you’re planning to return to figure skating!”

Victor froze on the spot. He’d probably expected Yakov to welcome him with open arms and such a reception threw him off.

“I… I thought I could talk to you as one coach to another.”

“I don’t understand what you’re doing, Vitya. If you’re so set on playing coach, why couldn’t you pick someone else? Yuuri Katsuki is a bad influence. You’re not just throwing your career away, but your life as well.”

Yuuri watched Victor’s face. Would he finally understand? Yakov had no idea how right he was, but he must have picked up on the dark rumours going around.

Victor smiled. “I always valued your opinion, Yakov, but I make my own decisions.”

“Yes and that’s the problem.”

_Exit Yakov stage left._

Victor turned around and beamed at Yuuri. “Looks like it’s just us for dinner!”

“Can I invite Leo and Guang Hong?” Phichit asked.

_That’s right, round up the old gang. That sounds like an excellent idea._ He gave Phichit a meaningful look.

Phichit smiled, knowing full well that it would irritate Yuuri.

Guang Hong and Leo both worked for him after having spent some years on their own. Guang Hong was one of the best shots Yuuri knew and Leo came in a close second. Together they landed all kinds of jobs from theft to just plain blackmail thanks to Phichit. There had once even been a shootout with another gang in suitably dramatic circumstances as well as moonlit rooftop chases. Yuuri had spent two months of his life as one of their group.

Yuuri eyed Victor. Well, he’d find out eventually.

“Stay close to me,” he whispered to his coach. He saw the way the colour rose to his cheeks and rolled his eyes.

 

The old gang gathered at a restaurant, arriving two at a time (except for Phichit who came on his own, even if his phone had so much information on different people it could almost count as a person in its own right).

Had they been characters in a certain type of movie, then no doubt this would’ve been the scene in which Yuuri told everyone else what his plan was, complete with a suitably catchy song and – quite possibly – a dance. But Yuuri wasn’t one to sing (at least when sober) and he also wasn’t one to start a jolly dance on a table.

Had they been characters in a play, this would’ve been their chance to plot something that would result in almost everyone’s death (for a tragedy) or a hilarious misunderstanding (for a comedy).

Since they were in neither a play or a movie, they had an argument. But first Victor provided them with some light entertainment by getting drunk with surprising speed and clinging to Yuuri’s side while singing something unrecognizable.

Yuuri waited for him to pass out, but when Victor tried to pull his shirt off and got stuck Yuuri pulled it back down and grabbed him by the arms.

“Victor,” he said in a cold, clear voice. “Why don’t you take a nap?”

“But I don’t want a nap-nap-nap,” Victor sang out.

Yuuri pulled him close and whispered something in his ear. He watched his coach’s face go red and then he fainted on top of him. It was the most dramatic faint Yuuri had ever seen.

“What did you say?” Phichit asked.

Yuuri ignored the question. “What did you manage to find out?”

“Nothing,” Leo said. “Complete dead end. Are you sure she gave you the right information?”

“She hasn’t lied to me before.”

“No, but maybe someone lied to her.”

Yuuri sighed. “I need to deal with this before it gets out of hand.”

“How’s the injury?” Phichit asked.

“There is no injury,” Yuuri’s expression was enough to freeze everyone within a one mile radius. Or would have, if looks could actually freeze people.

“All healed then.” Phichit leaned forward. “You don’t need to act so defensive. You can trust us, Yuuri. We’ll watch your back and make sure your boyfriend is ok.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“He’s sleeping on your lap,” Phichit pointed out, pulling out his phone.

“Don’t you dare,” Yuuri growled, trying to shield Victor from Phichit’s view with his hands and failing. “He stays out of this.”

“He’ll get pulled into it sooner or later,” Guang Hong warned.

“You can’t win on your own,” Leo added with a nod.

“None of you gets to tell me what to do.”

They exchanged looks. Yuuri made his as threatening as he could while everyone tried to communicate with their eyes that while, yes, they understood that Yuuri wanted to deal with everything alone, it was probably a good idea to accept some help when he was in over his head and that this was one such case and that maybe he wasn’t just way in over his head, but the metaphorical water level was so high up that barely any light was getting through.

“Listen, Yuuri,” Phichit began and Yuuri knew that the tone signaled that he knew that he was about to say something Yuuri will argue with. “There is a big price on your head.” He hesitated. “Now, I know how you’ll react, but…” He sighed. “I’d take the season off, if I were you. Too many things at once is a bad idea.”

Victor picked this moment to regain consciousness. “Hmmm… What?” He stared up into Yuuri’s face. Then he sat up, going all red. “Wh-what happened?”

“You passed out,” Phichit said with a big grin, “and Yuuri has been telling us what a wonderful coach you are.”

Victor looked at Yuuri. “Really?”

“Let’s go back,” Yuuri said and gave a Phichit a look that said _I’ll make you regret this._

Victor watched Yuuri stand up and then struggled to his feet. Yuuri steadied him.

“Yuuri is very shy, Victor,” Phichit added.

“Shut up,” Yuuri said through gritted teeth.

Phichit beamed as if he’d just been complimented. “And has no experience in dating at all.”

Yuuri dragged Victor out of the restaurant, pretending nothing had been said. _Stop grinning like an idiot, Victor! This isn’t funny!_

Hurricane Yuuri – one of the lesser known storms – didn’t turn over any houses and didn’t kill anyone (at least that evening) en route from the restaurant to the hotel. It did end up dragging one Victor Nikiforov along, but only to release him once inside the hotel.

“Good night, don’t have bad dreams and all that nonsense,” Yuuri said, his hand on the door’s handle.

“Yuuri,” Victor said as Yuuri swung the door open, “why didn’t you tell me you had no experience in dating?”

Yuuri froze in the doorway. “What does it matter? I didn’t realize that being my coach entitled you to know about my love life.” He was looking away from Victor so he had no idea what the expression on his face was as he said this.

“But it explains why you don’t understand Eros, Yuuri.”

Yuuri turned around and narrowed his eyes at Victor. _You’re not going to suggest what I think you are?_

Victor sighed. “If only I’d known about this earlier, we could’ve thought of some way to help you.”

“Well, it’s too late now,” Yuuri said, trying to hint with his tone that the conversation was over.

“Don’t worry about it, Yuuri. I’ll think of something.”

_Like all of your other methods to help me, which really didn’t? Or the supposed ‘well, you obviously can do it because of something I thought I glimpsed, but then again maybe not’?_ “It doesn’t matter. I’ll just focus on the jumps.”

“But I don’t want you to focus on the jumps,” Victor said. “Yuuri, can you listen to your coach for once?”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Only if I absolutely must.” _And then again, maybe I’d rather have my teeth pulled out._

Victor stepped in front of the door. _He’s going to say it. I don’t believe this, he’s really going to say it._ “Tomorrow I want you to skate like you’re trying to seduce me.”

Yuuri waited for the inevitable blush to appear on Victor’s face. _There it is. This is a dangerous game you don’t want to play, especially since we’ve already seen that you can’t even deal with the sight of me in that costume._ “I don’t have time for silly conversations.” He tried to brush Victor aside.

“If I didn’t know better, Yuuri, I would suspect that you’re scared.”

“Scared of what, exactly? That you’ll nosebleed to death?”

“What _are_ you scared of?”

Yuuri pretended to consider this question seriously. “Hmm… Let me think… Nothing.”

“Then I don’t see why you can’t do it.”

_Yes, but you’re already…_ He stepped up close to Victor and leaned forward so that his lips were several inches away from Victor’s ear. “I do what I want,” he whispered and locked himself in his room before Victor had time to protest.

 

It was the morning of the short program. As always, it started with practice. Then, as the skaters went out onto the ice one by one, Yuuri spotted two female skaters chatting with Victor.

“I don’t understand why you’re throwing yourself away like this,” one of them said.

“It’s just a waste of time,” the other agreed and they giggled.

Victor turned to go, but they blocked his way. “When are you coming back to competitive skating?” one of them said.

“Yeah! It’s no fun without you around!” the other one piped up.

Victor smiled. “I haven’t decided yet. Sorry,” he walked past them towards Yuuri.

Chris joined them before either Victor or Yuuri could say anything and added his voice to the choir of people singing the “Please come back Victor; it’s not the same now you’re gone” song.

_Oh Victor! Oh the light of our lives! What will we ever do without you? Obviously there are no other skaters out there at all!_ Yuuri turned away. _If you’d seen how he begged to be my coach, you would have been singing a different tune._

 

It was Yuuri’s turn to skate and Victor suddenly realized that his pupil wasn’t standing next to him. He looked for Yuuri on the ice, but it was empty as well.

Two hands wrapped themselves around his waist and slid up to his chest. He was suddenly very aware of the fact that Yuuri was holding him from behind.

“Looking for me?” Yuuri asked. Was that a teasing note in his voice?

“I… uh… yes!” he stammered out.

One of Yuuri’s hands slipped into his inside pocket and pulled out his handkerchief. “You’ll need this.”

Victor took it, feeling his head spin. _Goodness!_

The next moment Yuuri was on the ice in front of him. Victor rushed towards him without thinking. Yuuri waited for him to stop, then leaned forward until their foreheads touched and locked eyes with him. “Don’t take your eyes off me,” he ordered and skated away.

“Representing Japan: Yuuri Katsuki!”

Victor stared after him, one hand on his forehead and the other still clutching the handkerchief. _What’s gotten into him all of a sudden? He’s completely different today._

The music started and Victor watched, unable to look away. It was the same routine as before, of course, and the same skater, but Victor couldn’t believe it was really his pupil out on the ice.

His heart beat faster. _Yuuri!_

It wasn’t just the effect of the outfit this time: the effect would have been the same no matter what Yuuri was wearing. Or nothing. Victor felt all the blood rush to his face. Thinking something coherent was getting harder with every second.

_Yuuri, I envy the person who wins your heart_.

 

It was dangerous to follow Victor’s advice. Phichit’s warning rang in his ears as he skated away. Any minute Victor would become the second target and Yuuri wouldn’t be enough to protect him. It was rash and he’d done it out of spite. It was stupid. Very, very stupid.

Yuuri jumped and kept going. He’d gotten used to Victor’s presence and finding a new coach at a time like this would be really inconvenient. _But this way he won’t have to deal with gunmen every freaking minute._

He felt angry. Why couldn’t they leave him alone? Was he really such a thorn in their side?

Victor was naïve and ridiculous, but he was the first coach who hadn’t tried to change him, who’d just accepted him for who he was.

To be fair, it was only because of his big crush on Yuuri and so, quite possibly, because of his bad taste, but still.

_He won’t want to leave. How do I persuade him or do I just send him off against his will? I can send him home in a sack and he’ll probably still find a way to come back!_

For some reason this stubbornness brought a smile to his face. Perhaps he had more in common with Victor than he’d thought.

Yuuri went through one jump after another. _Here you are, Snowflake. You got what you wanted and now you need to go home._ And then a strange thought came to him. _What if that wasn’t right after all? What if after all that I still didn’t get Eros right?_

The music ended and he froze in the final position.

_He certainly_ looks _satisfied_ , Yuuri thought, skating to the kiss and cry. This time “satisfied” was a colossal understatement. His handkerchief was tucked into his pocket. It was all red.

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, holding out his arms.

_Here it comes_ , he thought, mentally preparing himself for another embrace.

This time Victor wasn’t planning on limiting himself to a hug. He jumped onto Yuuri and caught him in a kiss before Yuuri could avoid it. Yuuri experienced a cocktail of feelings: anger, frustration, a pinch of pleasant surprise and a secret ingredient he couldn’t identify.

Together they landed on the ice, but not before Victor’s hands caught Yuuri’s head to cushion his landing.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Victor said, “as much as you surprised me.”

“You definitely did. I thought you’d taste more like sugar.”

Victor’s face was red now. “What do I taste like?”

“I’m not sure.” Then, realizing how Victor would interpret it, Yuuri asked, “Are you going to let me get off the ice or should I just resign myself to freezing to death?”

Victor got to his feet and held out his hands to help Yuuri. Yuuri took them. There was excited chatter all around them and he watched Victor’s face spread into a grin.

“You do realize that you’ve become a target now?”

“Oh, Yuuri,” Victor said, embracing him from behind, “do you think that matters?”

“And I see you’re a little devious after all: using me as a shield is a brilliant idea.”

“Yuuri!” Victor released him and stepped back.

_Messing with you is far too much fun_.

“Yuuri!” Phichit called out. “Clever move there, Victor Nikiforov!”

They turned around and stared at him.

“The skating community is wondering what you did to sweet, innocent Yuuri Katsuki.” He saw the confused looks on the faces of both Victor and Yuuri and went on, “The skater famous for his lyrical programs? Where has he gone?”

“Phichit…” Yuuri tried to interrupt.

“But while we try to solve this mystery, ladies are advised not to look directly at him during his performance. As are men. There are cases of people passing out on the street and –”

“Stop it,” Yuuri said through clenched teeth.

“What? I thought it was funny.” Phichit shrugged, his phone in his hand.

_The World is watching._

_You stupid idiot, Victor, you ruined everything! Stop trying to throw your life away for me. I don’t want it and I don’t deserve it._

Whatever had fuelled him through the skate had worked and he came out of the short program with the highest score and Victor told anyone who would listen that Yuuri will win gold.

But Yuuri locked himself away. He stayed up all night worrying about what to do next. Who could he trust? He couldn’t even trust himself. That was made perfectly clear to him. But he didn’t want to trust anyone else and it was bad enough getting into a tight spot and being rescued by his business partner (who he still owed a favour). He didn’t want to be rescued if it meant he would be in someone else’s debt.

 

On the morning of the Free Skate segment of the competition he kept avoiding Victor, wondering if it was too late to fix the damage he’d caused.

Victor caught up with him just before it was Yuuri’s turn to skate. “Yuuri! I want to give you a pep talk.” He made a movement as if to wrap his arms around Yuuri, but Yuuri backed away.

“Listen, Victor, once the Cup of China is over, you’re going home. You won’t be my coach anymore.”

“What? Why?” Victor had a hurt look on his face that made Yuuri think of a kicked puppy.

“Because I said so.”

Yuuri went out onto the ice, greeted by cheers from the audience. _Yes, here I am – the top skater._

Only halfway into his routine did Yuuri notice that something was wrong. Victor Nikiforov was missing.

_Where the hell is that bastard? Why isn’t he here to watch me skate? Did he go somewhere to cry over what I said? Couldn’t he wait until I was done or is he trying to prove some sort of point?_

Yuuri over-rotated one jump and messed up the landing. A triple axel turned into a single. _What is wrong with me? This is stupid and ridiculous!_

He added another jump and landed perfectly.

_Where is Victor? What is he thinking?_

The answer came right after his scores were announced. It came in the shape of a little boy, or to be more specific it was in the shape of the piece of paper he handed to Yuuri.

In a flash he realized he knew what he was about to read: a ransom note with lots of spelling and grammar mistakes. It brought him no satisfaction to see that he was right.

Yuuri looked up. The little boy was gone.

 

Feet. Someone’s feet were on the floor. Oh wait, they were his feet. He shifted them slightly and then remembered that he had hands. But when he tried to move them, he found that he couldn’t. Victor panicked. There was something dry in his mouth, maybe a cloth, he wasn’t sure. He raised his eyes and saw the blood-splattered walls.

“I’m gonna carve up your face, pretty boy,” someone said and he felt a fist connect with his face. “I’m gonna hurt you so bad that your boyfriend won’t even recognize you.”

_Boyfriend? Who is he talking about?_ Victor wondered.

“Skating legend, ha!” the man laughed and something glinted in his hand. He swung it round. “Skating myth more like!”

Victor closed his eyes as tightly as he could. He felt the blade graze his skin.

_Yuuri…_ he thought. The name went around in his head.

“Anyway, enough games. I’m serious this time,” the man chuckled. “What do you think, pretty boy? Where should I start? Arms, legs or face?”

He reached out and pulled the gag out of Victor’s mouth. Victor opened his eyes and got his first good look at his assailant. He was big, bald and was missing some of his teeth. If there had been a store that sold thugs, he would have been in the generic thug aisle.

“I’m not scared of you,” Victor said calmly and was surprised to discover that it was true.

“Then I’m gonna carve up your face, you pompous –”

A shot rang out and the man tumbled onto the ground.

Victor was suddenly aware of all of the other people in the room. There must have been at least fifteen of them.

Another shot rang out and another figure fell. They fired upwards, but the shots kept on coming until none of them were left.

Then a figure jumped down onto the ground.

“Scum,” Yuuri said, reloading his gun. He stood with his back to Victor. “Dirty, rotten scum.” He kicked one of the corpses.

“Yuuri, I’m so glad to see you!” Victor exclaimed.

Yuuri still wouldn’t turn around. “What have they done to you?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“Nothing, really, just punched my face. That’s all. I probably have some bruises now, but otherwise –”

Yuuri spun around and took in the sight of Victor tied to a chair, his hands behind his back. There were bruises on his face and a cut on his cheek.

There was such a look of horror on Yuuri’s face that Victor tried to smile reassuringly. “I’m fine. I really am.”

Yuuri stepped towards him and grabbed his face, putting his forehead against Victor’s. “How dare they? How dare those bastards touch you? They so much as lay a finger on you again and I’ll kill the lot of them!”

“Yuuri…”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you again,” he promised.

“Yuuri…”

“What?” he snapped.

“I’m fine. Really. You don’t have to cry for me.”

“I’m not crying!” he protested, but there were tears flowing down his cheeks one after another with no plans on stopping in the immediate future.

“Yuuri…” Victor smiled, “I love you.”

Yuuri gritted his teeth. “I will kill all of them.”

“You already did.”

“Then I’ll kill them again.” He broke out into dark laughter.

“Yuuri… um, do you think you could untie me?”

Yuuri went around and undid the knots. He helped Victor to his feet. “Can you stand?”

“Yes, I’m fine, honestly.”

“This is why you don’t get sentimental. This is why you don’t make yourself a target. This is why you _go home and don’t involve yourself with me_.”

Victor pulled Yuuri into an embrace. “I love you, Yuuri.”

“And stop saying that!” He kicked the chair in frustration. “Let’s go.”

“But what do we do if –” They stepped out of the room and found themselves at the business end of a gun.

“Hands where I can see them and drop your gun,” a man said from behind the gun. He looked like he came from the same thug store as the man who had punched Victor.

Yuuri swore and let his gun fall on the ground.

“We’ll go down together,” Victor promised.

“Don’t be stupid. It’s me they want.”

“They’ll have to get through me first,” Victor said, stepping between Yuuri and the gunman.

“Can you two shut up for three seconds?”

A shot rang out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This should probably be two chapters, but I couldn't figure out where to split it, so it's staying as one.


	13. You’re an Idiot

The main character hung from the edge of a cliff, supporting his weight only by the tips of his fingers. The audience watched in anticipation. Someone was sweating. Someone was chewing their nails. Someone was eating popcorn. In the back row a couple was making out really loudly, not caring about the fate of the protagonist.

The dramatic music increased in volume.

A voice shouted over the music, “Just get on with it!”

 

The thug fell on his face, slowly like a chopped down tree, begging the question: if a thug falls and there is no one there to hear him fall does he actually make a sound? And the answer was: Yes, he uses his last breath to swear.

Phichit walked down the hallway towards them, a gun in each hand. He looked really pleased with himself. “Honestly, have you heard yourselves? I’m tempted to ask when the wedding was, but I know for a fact that Yuuri isn’t married.”

“What?” Yuuri asked, derailed both by Phichit’s sudden appearance as well as his comment.

Phichit sighed. “I said that you two argue like an old married couple. Now get your gun and let’s get out of here before I get his blood on my shoes.”

“Hang on. Why are you here?”

“Yuuri, honestly…” Phichit shook his head and looked at Victor. “Here’s a free tip for the future: figure out when Yuuri needs help and give it whether he wants it or not, because he’ll never ask for it and won’t accept it if you just offer it to him.”

“Phichit…” Victor stared at the guns in his hands, “…you’re involved in this too?”

Phichit laughed. “Hard to believe it, isn’t it? Now, I have a car out back, so I suggest we go. Leo and Guang Hong have already cleared the building and any minute now they will be making sure that no part of it remains standing, so I suggest we hurry.”

They ran through the halls of the abandoned warehouse, not even bothering to stop and check if the coast was clear. When Leo and Guang Hong cleared a building even the mice disappeared. Victor and Yuuri held hands like children. If they had come across any more gunmen Yuuri would’ve killed them with his bare hands.

It was the standard sort of abandoned warehouse that a certain type of gang must have ordered straight out of a catalogue. Most of it was empty, but there were probably rooms with something that would give the warehouse’s history away.

“This takes me back,” Phichit said. “Remember that raid for the diamond?”

“When they thought we had a bomb,” Yuuri added. That had been a good day. _Those rich bastards wetted themselves with fear when we showed up._

“Well, here we are retrieving another diamond,” Phichit said.

“Diamond?” Victor stopped.

“You mean you haven’t told him the stories? Does Victor even know –”

“Yes, he does,” Yuuri cut Phichit off. Once he started no force in the universe could stop Phichit’s reminiscing.

“Alright,” Phichit motioned for them to keep going and they sped up again. “You should get Yuuri to tell you some of the stories. The opium one is the best, hands down!”

“Opium?”

“Phichit, you do realize that the more he knows –”

“Alright, alright… But what about the tattoo? Can I tell him that one?” They ran out of corridors to run through and went through a door out into the fresh air. There were clouds of smoke above the buildings ahead of them. Perhaps it wasn’t that fresh after all.

“No, definitely not.”

“So we were going to sort –”

“Really? You’re going to tell him _now_?” _Why don’t you write it down in a book and just give it to him to read later? Or would you rather stop for tea and cake?_

“– some local gangs –”

There was a parking lot behind the building with one lonely car in the closest spot so it took only one guess to figure out which was going to be their escape vehicle. Of Guang Hong and Leo there was no sign.

“Oh look, the car,” he said with mock surprise.

“Okay, okay,” Phichit grinned at Victor. “Next time.”

Phichit claimed the driver’s seat, Yuuri and Victor climbed into the back and they were off.

For a while no one said anything and then a big explosion broke the silence. They drove on as if it had nothing to do with them.

“I… I wasn’t scared at all,” Victor admitted quietly. “It’s so odd. I thought I would be, but I wasn’t. I knew you’d come and save me.”

“You’re an idiot,” Yuuri said, grabbed Victor by the lapels of his jacket and pressed his mouth against Victor’s as he climbed onto his lap.

Victor found his arms full of Yuuri, more Yuuri than he knew what to do with, which is to say a grand total of one.

For a while no one said anything.

“You sure picked a good time for making out,” Phichit broke the silence.

Yuuri released Victor and turned his head. “What? Do you have cameras installed in here too?”

Phichit laughed. “No, but it’s definitely something I will think about.”

“Phichit!”

“Look, you can do whatever you want, as long as you don’t make a lot of noise and don’t stick any limbs out the window.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes and turned around to see how Victor was taking this. Victor looked like whatever internal programming had been running all his functions had just broken down. Yuuri debated whether or not it was a good idea to go for another kiss. Would Victor faint or just stop breathing?

“I can put some music on for you,” Phichit offered. “What would you like?”

“You’re not funny.” He argued with Phichit, while still staring down at Victor and waiting for some clue that his brain was still functioning.

“Maybe, but you definitely are.”

“If you don’t stop that…” Yuuri spun around, temporarily forgetting that he was using Victor’s lap as a seat.

“Then what?”

Suddenly Phichit and Yuuri were both pointing guns at each other. There was an awkward pause and then they both burst out laughing. The guns were put away.

“So where are you taking us?” Yuuri asked.

“Guess.”

“Back to the Cup of China?” Victor suggested and Yuuri turned around to look at him. Victor blushed and Yuuri suddenly realized he was still sitting on top of him. He moved to the seat instead.

“Got it in one,” Phichit kept his eyes both on the road and on the seat behind him, alternating between the two at an impressive speed.

“But what about –”

“And here come the brave members of the police to save us all,” Phichit interrupted. “Alright, everyone, remember who you are. I’m the China Cup gold medallist. Yuuri, you’re the silver medallist and Victor – you’re the figure skating legend, five-time champion, you know the rest.”

“What? Silver?” Victor asked, all thoughts of kisses seemingly forgotten.

Yuuri stared out the window. “Yes.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Not now, Victor,” Yuuri warned.

“But I –”

Phichit pulled over. A policeman walked up to them.

“Hello, sir, I’d like to see your driver’s licence.”

“Sure!” Phichit handed it over with a smile.

“Thank you,” the policeman studied it for several seconds and handed it back. “You can go.”

“Shouldn’t we –” Victor began, but Yuuri put a hand over his mouth.

“Have you considered what you’re going to tell everyone?” Phichit asked as he parked the car.

“About what?” Yuuri demanded, climbing out and waiting for Victor to follow him before closing the door.

“About Victor’s face,” Phichit explained.

 _Another minute and I would’ve been too late._ He clenched his fists, remembering the way the man hit Victor. “We’ll just say he fell down some stairs, that’s all.”

“Stairs?” Phichit echoed.

“Stairs.” _And then I killed those goddamn “stairs”._

Phichit stopped them before they could run off, holding up a first aid kit. “First this.”

“You don’t have to –” Victor protested.

“Don’t worry, Victor, unlike Yuuri I know what I’m doing.”

They found a bench and Victor sat on it while Phichit treated his face. Victor stared at Yuuri. They held hands, unable to let go.

“I won’t let this happen again,” Yuuri vowed.

Victor merely smiled.

Yuuri felt his defences shudder. He’d taken so much care and yet Victor had managed to take them all down one by one. He felt weak. He’d need an hour on his own to recover, but it was an hour he didn’t have.

Remembering Phichit, he drew a breath and pulled himself together, or tried to at least. Phichit saw everything and knew. He had complete power over Yuuri now.

Victor brought Yuuri’s hands to either side of his face and said, “I love you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri felt Phichit’s gaze on him. “Do you need a moment?”

“No,” Yuuri said. “This isn’t Victor’s first confession.”

“Oh.” Was there a smile on Phichit’s face? Yuuri didn’t know, his eyes were still fixed on Victor. _Just say it. Say one word and I swear…_

Phichit remained silent and watched both Victor and Yuuri as if they were the most interesting show of the year.

“Yuuri?” he said after a while.

Yuuri looked him straight in the face and said, “I need protection. Name your price.”

“I keep telling you: it’s free of charge.”

Yuuri sat down on the bench next to Victor. “I won’t let them harm you again.”

“Well, Victor, it looks like you’ve managed to do something no one else could until now (in fact, I was starting to think it was impossible): you broke Yuuri Katsuki.”

 _Yes, I am broken. You should return me to the manufacturer and demand a refund._ He buried his face in Victor’s shoulder, gripping Victor’s arms above the elbow. He’d come within a hair’s width to losing him. _Here we are, Snowflake. We went to the very top and off the edge of the cliff and now who knows how far it is to the ground? I hope you’ll have time to enjoy your wish, because you got it, you poor bastard. And if I ever find out what sick and twisted god granted it…_

Yuuri was suddenly aware of someone else’s presence. He raised his head and saw Guang Hong and Leo standing behind Victor.

“Your friends will always have your back, Yuuri,” Phichit promised.

Victor smiled at Yuuri.

_Damn it all to hell! We’re not dead yet and I sure as hell won’t be going down easily!_

Yuuri pulled away and stood up. “We need to go back. Come on, Victor, we’re not missing my exhibition dance.”

Victor’s face was full of admiration and Yuuri pretended he couldn’t see it. _If I have to destroy half the world to find the moron responsible, I will, but first I’m going to need a lot of weapons._

He held out his hands and Victor took them.

 

First Victor pulled a vanishing act and when Victor disappeared, it was very noticeable. Next no one could find Yuuri. An hour later they discovered that Phichit, Guang Hong and Leo had disappeared as well. Chris was starting to wonder if someone was kidnapping all of the skaters and if he or Georgi would be next when he saw them all return.

Chris stared at Victor’s face in alarm. It was bruised and covered in band aids. He rushed to his friend’s side and demanded to know what happened.

“I tripped down the stairs,” Victor said and Chris knew it was a lie.

_It’s that Yuuri Katsuki, isn’t it? I heard that there was something wrong with him, but I didn’t think he’d hurt you!_

He waited until Yuuri was out on the ice, performing his exhibition dance before confronting Victor about it. “What did he do to you?”

“Hmm? What?”

“What did your pupil do to you?”

“N-nothing.” Victor blushed.

 _Oh no._ Chris sighed. “Listen, Victor, you know you can tell me anything. If he hurts you –” He was suddenly aware of the fact that Phichit was standing next to him. He glared at Yuuri’s friend and continued, “I will… so help me, I will make sure he regrets it!”

Victor gave him a surprised look.

“Can we have a picture with you, please?”

Chris turned around and saw Guang Hong and Leo staring at him in admiration with their phones in their hands.

“You’re a legend! My followers asked for a picture of you!” Guang Hong admitted.

“Yes and I promised my parents!” Leo said. “They’re big fans!”

 _I guess skaters are fans too._ “Sure. I don’t see why not.” He winked at them and they dragged him off to find the perfect place for a group photo.

Chris didn’t even stop to wonder why they hadn’t asked for Victor’s photo as well.

 

Victor forgot about Chris the moment his friend left. His eyes were fixed on the figure out on the ice.

“You’re not the first one who’s chased him, you know.” Phichit said, intruding on Victor’s thoughts. “He’s dealt with several honey traps already.”

“Honey traps?”

“Ah, innocence!” Phichit chuckled and then translated, “Sometimes, when someone is dangerous enough their enemies will send a person to seduce them and get some blackmail material on them, or just influence their actions. We call those people ‘honey traps’.” He gave Victor a thoughtful look. “Naturally, when he told me you were his coach I did a thorough background check on you.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t think he knows you’ve been chasing him for three years. You should probably tell him.”

Victor blushed. He turned away to watch Yuuri.

“You’ve already confessed to him. Several times, I gather,” Phichit watched Victor’s face as he spoke. “So this should be easy enough for you.”

The music ended and Yuuri bowed as the audience applauded.

“My turn,” Phichit said. He leaned towards Victor and whispered, “As long as you’re with me, Guang Hong or Leo, you’re safe. I wouldn’t run off anywhere alone, if I were you.” He caught the way Victor looked at him and added, “Ask Yuuri how much your life is worth right now.”

Phichit went out onto the ice and Yuuri joined Victor.

 

Chris watched Yuuri take Victor’s hands in both of his own and look into Victor’s face. There was no mistaking that expression.

_Maybe I was wrong about you after all._

Yuuri asked Victor something and Victor shook his head. Victor started to tell him something, getting excited as usual, and Chris could tell from where he stood that it was another of Victor’s silly stories that only he thought were funny, but Yuuri listened to him.

Several hours ago Yuuri acted like he would rather do anything than talk to another skater. He rolled his eyes at everyone, especially Victor, and then raised his voice at him and Chris thought it was odd that Yuuri took as a coach someone he hated so much, but he could see now that it wasn’t hate.

 

The Cup of China was over. The final score was: universe-1, Yuuri Katsuki-1. There were more rounds to go through before a winner could be determined.

The old gang and Victor went to celebrate the end of the Cup of China in another restaurant. Victor got drunk again and Yuuri watched with interest, wondering how far he would go if no one stopped him and what kind of a drunk a five-time champion made.

A naked drunk, as it turned out.

Victor tossed his clothes off and then asked Yuuri for another kiss. Yuuri was faintly amused by this.

“Not now,” he said and waited for Victor’s response.

“Not now?” Victor asked in what he probably thought was an indignant tone, but he’d had five drinks too many to pull it off. “Then when?” Victor demanded and giggled.

“When I feel like it,” Yuuri said, his smirk getting bigger. “I want to taste Victor, not vodka.”

Phichit laughed.

Guang Hong and Leo remained absolutely still despite the fact that one of them had the living legend’s underpants on his head. Yuuri had a gun in his hand and, while Guang Hong and Leo were better shots, Yuuri had an even better reaction time and he’d threatened to shoot anyone who interfered with what Victor was doing. And moving counted as interfering, as far as Yuuri was concerned.

“Yuuri, kiss me every – hic – where!” he said.

“Everywhere?” Yuuri repeated, but Victor didn’t catch his meaning.

“And… every-hic-when.”

“Time to go back,” Yuuri said.

“Why? I’m not – hic – I’m not tired.”

Yuuri leaned forward and whispered the same words he’d used the previous time: “Sleep with me.”

And, like last time, Victor fainted.

“Give me his underwear,” Yuuri said, holding out his hand towards Guang Hong and Leo. “I’m not carrying him back to the hotel naked.”

The gunmen exchanged looks. Here was a side to Yuuri they’d never seen before. They watched Yuuri dress Victor with care, check he was still breathing, pick him up and carry him out.

Victor regained his consciousness halfway to the hotel, but he kept his eyes closed and Yuuri pretended he didn’t notice that Victor was awake. He pretended all the way to the door to Victor’s room where he dropped him off and left without another word.


	14. It must be Fate!

Yuuri was in unmapped territory. He’d gone off the edge of the coloured bits and into a part labelled ‘who the hell knows’ and still he was going at breakneck speed. But, then again, where was the fun in only sticking to the charted areas?

 

When he and Victor arrived at Hastesu they were welcomed like heroes returning from a battle: big meals were cooked, people kept asking if they wanted anything else and someone even offered to carry Yuuri above their head (he shut that down right away).

His mother asked Victor where he wanted his things taken to which the coach innocently replied that he’ll take them to his room himself.

They watched him go with some surprise.

“I thought you’d want to share…” Minako muttered and Yuuri pretended not to hear her.

“Is everything okay with Victor?” Yuuri’s mother asked.

“Of course it is.” His face hadn’t healed yet, but they’d already discussed that over the phone.

“I think your mother is waiting for an official announcement,” Minako told Yuuri quietly.

“About what?”

“After that kiss we all naturally assumed…”

Yuuri remembered that Minako had been there in person at the Cup of China (even if he’d succeeded in avoiding her) and wondered if she told his parents about anything else she might have seen.

“So my mother expects me to go out onto the street with a megaphone and tell the world… what?”

“Yuuri, why do you have to be like that? We just want to know if Victor is your boyfriend or not.”

_Ah, now I see what this is all about._ Yuuri smiled. “That’s between me and him and has nothing to do with you.”

“But –”

He left, not bothering to listen to any more of her protests. _My personal life isn’t something for you to gossip about to all of your online friends. I know you’ll be doing it anyway, but I’ll die before I tell you anything._

Victor was unpacking in his room when Yuuri walked in.

“Ah! Yuuri!” Victor turned around and smiled. Makkachin ran to greet Yuuri as if he hadn’t seen him a few minutes earlier.

Yuuri leaned against the doorway. “Settling back in, Snowflake?”

“Y-yes…” Victor was suddenly very flustered.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

_Yeah, right._ “Look, I need to know if you still want to be my coach.” He saw the expression on Victor’s face and added, “If you think you can do it despite all of these…” he waved his arm in the air, looking for the right word, “…distractions.”

Victor looked away. “They haven’t stopped me before…”

“Alright,” Yuuri stepped away from the wall and turned to leave.

Victor tried to stutter out something and Yuuri waited for it. Finally he gave up and walked over to him.

“What is it?”

Victor stared down at his feet. “Nothing.”

“Does that mean you’ll tell me later or should I keep asking what it is? Because it’s obviously something.”

“It’s nothing.”

Yuuri shrugged and walked out of the room. _Later it is, then._

Whatever-it-was was still weighting on Victor’s mind the next day, because he couldn’t focus during practice. And it was there the next. Yuuri waited for several days before his patience ran out. It ran out halfway through practice.

Yuuri skated up to him. “Do you want to tell me what it is now?”

“U-um, I…”

Yuuri waited. Still nothing. _Alright, let’s play twenty questions._ “It has something to do with me kissing you, doesn’t it?”

Victor’s face went bright red. “N-no.”

“Then what?” _What is it that you have trouble talking about?_ “Is it about sex?”

“No!” Victor went even redder.

Yuuri shrugged at this.

But he still couldn’t coax it out of Victor.

Yuuri got fed up with it in the end. He changed out of his skates and grabbed Victor’s arm above the elbow. “Come with me.”

He’d brought a spare helmet with him this time and handed it to Victor before getting on his bike. For the first time Victor didn’t hesitate before he climbed on. Yuuri waited for him to wrap his arms around his torso before asking,

“Fast or not so fast?”

“What?”

“Do you want to go as fast as I can or should I keep to the speed limit this time?”

“I thought you said you liked to go fast.”

“I did. And now I’m asking what you like.” _Do I really have to spell it out for you?_

“Fast,” Victor answered.

He took a highway out of the city until he found a specific hill and then circled it to find a spot to leave his bike.

“I used to come here all the time,” he said, getting off the bike and removing his helmet. “No one ever comes here, so I always have the place all to myself.”

They climbed the hill together. Once they reached the top Yuuri lay down on the grass. It was a warm day for the end of November, but he wouldn’t have remained standing even if there had been snow on the ground.

Victor sat down next to him.

Clouds floated through the sky overhead, promising impending doom to anything that could be destroyed with water.

Yuuri said nothing, waiting for Victor to start, but it was becoming obvious with every minute that this wasn’t going to happen.

“So what’s this all about, then?”

“It’s not important, really.”

“It’s obviously important enough to distract you from everything else.” And then Yuuri had an idea. “This is about the Rostelecom Cup, isn’t it? Are you worried about me competing on your home turf?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Alright, I’m all out of ideas, Snowflake. Just tell me what it is.”

“I don’t know how… how you will react.”

“Only one way to find out.” He shifted to a slightly more comfortable patch of ground and folded his arms under his head. There were definitely more clouds in the sky now.

“I really like it when you call me Snowflake,” Victor said and Yuuri could almost hear the blush in his tone of voice.

“Oh, good.” _I’d gotten so used to doing it, I’ve stopped noticing._

“I was wondering…” He paused.

“Well, you made it this far. Might as well keep going.”

“I was wondering if… if I can give you a nickname.”

Yuuri sat up. “What? Absolutely not!”

“Not even one I can use when there is no one else around?”

“I can’t stand pet names and nicknames. I have my own proper name and that’s all there is to it.”

He wondered if Victor was going to point out that this wasn’t fair, but he merely sighed. He sat there, looking very miserable.

“Come on, let’s go back.” Yuuri rose to his feet and held out his hands.

Victor took them and Yuuri purposefully missed his footing. He tripped and they fell over together. Victor scrambled to get up, but Yuuri held him in place.

“Does it really mean that much to you?” Yuuri asked quietly.

“No, no, it’s fine…” Victor protested.

The man responsible for many deaths, a dangerous gangster guilty of more than just murder, considered his next words carefully. “Only when there is no one around and only if it’s not something ridiculous.”

“I-in Russian we modify people’s names as a form of endearment,” Victor offered.

“Fine. I’ll take that.”

He rolled over so that Victor was under him and kissed him.

And then an unwelcome guest made his appearance: it started to rain.

Yuuri felt the first drops hit his back and pulled away reluctantly. He got up, pulling Victor with him. The Russian was still disoriented by the kiss. Yuuri half dragged him back to the bike and then put his helmet on for him.

“Hang on tight, alright?”

“Yuuri…”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll talk about it all later.”

He was worried Victor would let go and fall off. If only he had some rope to tie the stupid man to him! _No, I’m the stupid one. It was obvious it was going to rain and now we’re going to get soaked coming home. I’m already half-soaked. Damn it!_

He drove slowly, his mind focused on making sure Victor was still hanging on. _Don’t faint on me now, Snowflake._

 By the time they got back he felt like he’d been pulled out of a lake. He hauled Victor off the bike and dragged him into the house, past his astonished family and up to his room.

“Dry clothes, now!” he ordered and went off to do the same.

 

They sat at dinner afterwards and Victor was close enough to Yuuri for their arms to keep brushing against each other. It wasn’t very comfortable, but that didn’t matter. It also didn’t matter that his whole family was there. Victor was telling them another one of his stories and they all nodded and laughed when they were supposed to. Yuuri remained quiet.

_Am I going soft?_ he wondered. _Are you going to change me into what everyone likes to call a better man?_

He snuck off at night and got into a fight with three big thugs just because he could. He was pleased to see that he could still kill them as coldly and efficiently as before.

He climbed into his house through Victor’s window afterwards and found Victor sitting next to it, waiting for him.

“Hello, Juliet.”

“What?”

“I wonder if I should use my own window in the future. This one was always free before and I just got used to getting in this way. It’s closer to the street.”

Victor looked at Yuuri as if he was about to take something precious from him. Yuuri opened his mouth to make a joke when he became conscious of a strange noise in the room.

He spun around and traced it to Victor’s phone.

“What the hell is that annoying sound?”

“Singing,” Victor said and went for his phone, but Yuuri blocked his way with his arm.

He leaned over it and listened carefully. It sounded vaguely familiar. The song was really off tune, but the voice…

The voice was his.

“What the hell is this?”

Victor grabbed the phone and turned it off. “Nothing.”

“No, you’re not avoiding this one. What was that?”

“J-just a recording,” Victor said and stepped back, holding the phone behind his back.

“A recording of what?” Yuuri tried to reach for it.

Victor took another step back. “Don’t you remember?”

“Obviously not.”

Victor stared at him in silence and then played it again.

Yuuri recognized the song this time. If that was him singing, it was a good thing he never wanted to become a singer. He still had no memory of it. That could mean only one thing and it would explain both the singing as well as how bad it was: he’d been drunk. The recording was made when he was drunk and he had no way of…

“When was this?” he asked hoarsely.

“You really don’t remember?” Was that a hint of a tear in Victor’s eye?

Yuuri’s instincts, which rarely let him down, told him he was treading on shaky ground. “Not clearly,” he lied.

“You sang to me!” Victor burst out.

“I thought I didn’t have any alcohol during our time in China.”

“Not in China, in Russia!”

“But I haven’t been to…” … _except for the previous year’s Grand Prix. Damn it, he’s talking about last year._ He swore and dropped into a chair. _Ok, this is it, Yuuri Katsuki. This is when you dig your grave and crawl into it. Here lies Yuuri Katsuki killed by freaking Victor Nikiforov over something so stupid we can’t even put it on his tombstone._

It was suddenly really cold in the room. They eyed each other warily, not knowing what to say next. The recording looped to the beginning.

_God! I always knew I went off the rails when I got drunk, but what the hell? Singing? What else did I do?_ “Do you only have this recording, or are there videos too?”

“And photos.” _Damn! Damn! Damn!_

“Alright, how much?”

“What?”

“How much will you take to destroy it all?”

“Destroy it?”

_God, why do you have to be so dense?_ “You have blackmail material on me. I want it destroyed. How much do I need to pay you to do that?” He remembered his conversation with Phichit several months ago. _Do I have something on him? Hell no! But the damn bastard has something on_ me _! Me!_

“I don’t want to destroy it.”

_Oh great!_ He lunged at him and grabbed for the phone.

They fought for it and Yuuri, to no one’s surprise, came out victorious.

“Yuuri! Yuuri, please don’t!”

“Hell, no! Do you have any idea what you can do to my reputation with this?”

He stood over Victor who was sitting on the floor staring up at him. “I wasn’t going to do anything with it!” Victor protested. “I was only listening to it.”

Yuuri hit pause and put his finger over the delete button.

“Please, Yuuri! It’s the most precious thing I have!”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. You have no idea how much this is worth.” Still he couldn’t hit the button. “Hang on.” He looked at Victor. “You’ve been walking around with this on your phone ever since…” _ever since the Grand Prix last year._ “Okay, you know what, I’m not going to do anything to it. For now. I want you to tell me what happened.” Victor opened his mouth, but Yuuri beat him to it, “Yes, I am a black out drunk. I have no memory of anything I did at the banquet. I remember waking up the next day, though.” Oh, how he remembered that! _There_ was a memory he would have been glad to part with. He’d had the worst hangover in the history of drinking. Probably.

“You don’t remember _anything_?”

_Ah hell, he looks ready to cry. What the hell do I say to that? I don’t remember a single thing apart from the first hour when everyone was supposed to mingle and I was in my corner, wishing it was all over. And then I had the brilliant idea that it would be really funny if the banquet was a disaster and then I… decided to get drunk first._

“I might remember some of it,” he said. “If you told me then I will probably remember all of it.” _Like hell I will! I can’t remember the number of times Phichit would drag me out for drinks and then tell me tall tales afterwards and I would have no memory of anything. So I swore never to drink again. That sure lasted a long time._

 

_The banquet after the Grand Prix Final in Sochi started out in the way many of them did: the skaters were all in their best clothes talking to each other and various sponsors. There was a lot of mingling and small talk as per tradition of such events. The evening was well on its way and everyone was starting to think about going back to their hotel rooms when a figure skater pushed the crowd apart._

_He was drunk, that was obvious at first glance, but he was still very steady on his feet. He was standing in front of Victor Nikiforov._

_“Will you dance with me, pretty boy?” he said. “Or do I need to have a medal for you to even talk to me?”_

_Victor went all red. Here was Yuuri Katsuki asking to dance with him! He nodded and wondered what kind of a dance Yuuri was offering._

_“Music!” Yuuri demanded. “Come on! Is this a party or a funeral?”_

_Everyone stared at him in surprise. Someone muttered something about disrespect._

_But none of that mattered, because here was Yuuri leading Victor out onto the dancefloor and Victor forgot that he was the five-time Grand Prix champion, because he suddenly felt as if it was the other way around. He was the trembling fan looking at his idol who – oh what luck! – had picked him out among a crowd of potential candidates. He remembered going to a concert with Georgi once and standing near the stage and wishing he could meet the singers in person (he did three years later when they were both giving interviews for the same magazine, but that didn’t turn out to be as satisfying as meeting Yuuri Katsuki did)._

Two years I’ve followed you around, Yuuri Katsuki _._ Two years when I didn’t have the courage to come up to you and say something. And here you are, taking my hand and asking for a dance. It must be Fate!

_It was always Fate with Victor Nikiforov. As far as he was concerned, it was all up to her. If he didn’t have the courage to talk to Yuuri, then it was Fate that they talk later. If he and Yuuri were competing against each other it was also Fate and so on._

_And so they danced. They danced late into the night until everyone was gone. Someone kept trying to kick the two of them out, but Yuuri threatened to break the neck of anyone who got in their way. So the music was still going, looping through the same 20 songs and still Yuuri wasn’t tired._

_When the sky outside started to lighten Yuuri stepped back and Victor thought he was going to leave, but he sang. It wasn’t a song Victor knew, but he liked it anyway, and he managed to recover from surprise fast enough to pull out his phone and hit record._

_What luck that it was a long song!_

_The next day Yuuri announced that Celestino was no longer his coach and that he would probably not attend any more competitions that season. That was Fate again, of course._

_But, most importantly, it was Fate for him to become Yuuri’s coach._

 

“I never figured out what song that is.” _That’s not surprising. I could barely recognize it_ and _it’s in Japanese._ “I tried using one of those song recognizing apps, but they didn’t work.” Victor sighed and then his face split into a smile. “But now you can tell me what song it is!”

There were two ways this could go and Yuuri played the two scenarios out in his head. Scenario 1: he told the truth and admitted the fact that he hadn’t been aware of himself: that all these years he’d been protesting too loudly and too much. Scenario 2: he lied and his reputation remained more or less intact and many awkward questions could be avoided.

“It’s a song about hate,” he said, making his choice without dwelling on it for too long.

“Really? It sounds so nice!” Victor sighed. “I wish I could understand the words!” He got up and hit the play button.

_I can still delete it. I can still destroy this stupid thing._ He stared down at the phone in his hand.

“…And I will never be there,” he mistranslated. “My soul is so full of hate and I don’t want to see your face ever again.”

Victor was standing right next to him, both hands holding the arm Yuuri was holding the phone with. Yuuri looked into his face. The song went on and he didn’t say anything.

“And?” Victor asked after a while.

“… _And I will get you the Moon if you ask for it_ ,” Yuuri whispered.

Victor leaned forward. The phone slipped out of Yuuri’s hand and hit the floor, but that no longer mattered. Yuuri stepped back, but Victor caught him and wasn’t going to let go.

_I swear, if you bring this up ever again, then so help me, I…_

He pulled away after a while. “I have to go.” He picked the phone up and handed it to Victor. “Make sure no one ever hears this.” And then, feeling like his reputation could maybe still be saved, he turned around in the doorway. “I just remembered: when I get drunk I start to think it’s really funny to serenade other skaters. It’s a stupid idea, I know, but…” He took in Victor’s face, “…I won’t serenade anyone else ever again,” he added.

Victor smiled. “What about me?”

“Hell no! If there’s one thing that recording proves it’s that I can’t sing at all.”

Victor walked up to him.

“But I can probably promise you something else.”

Victor smiled and took Yuuri by the hands. “Dance with me.”

“We have a morning flight tomorrow,” Yuuri reminded him. “Aren’t you worried how they will welcome you back home?”

Victor released Yuuri. “No, I’m not.”

_Yeah, you say that, but you turn away and you won’t let me see the expression on your face. Well, you’ll have to deal with it on your own terms. It can’t be scarier than being kidnapped and beaten up._


	15. Deep Breaths

Sheremetyevo Airport was packed to the brim with travellers, their families and – worst of all – Victor Nikiforov’s fans. Yuuri had already mentally prepared himself for the reception, but this was worse than he’d expected. There were screams and squeals. People waved posters and all kinds of merchandise.

Yuuri walked on as if they weren’t there, not wishing to look at the crowd any longer.

Victor waved happily at his fans. “Thank you for your support, everyone!”

The screams got louder. They were shouting something in Russian. _Chanting_ something in Russian.

Yuuri looked at Victor’s face and made an educated guess. “Are they asking you to pick them over me?”

Victor opened his mouth and Yuuri waited for the contradiction. “Yes.”

“That’s what I thought. What’s the Russian for f-”

“Yuuri, I’m not –”

“-Find someone else?”

A fan near the front of the crowd shouted, “Pick me, Victor!” in English.

Yuuri walked up to her and a cold smile appeared on his face as he swore in Russian at her. They weren’t just any swearwords, either: they were the kind of swearwords that often led to a suggestion from an adult that the swearer wash their mouth immediately.

She stared at him in shock.

He spun around and smiled at Victor, but it was a different smile this time. “What a wonderful welcome, coach!”

“Yuuri! Where did you –”

Yuuri took him by the arm and led him out. “So, who is meeting us? Yakov?”

“I don’t think he –”

“I was joking. Which relative, then?”

“N-no one. We’re taking a taxi.”

Too late Yuuri remembered that Victor’s family consisted of one really old aunt. The rest of them had died over the years. He’d never had the chance to find out how.

Yuuri pulled him onwards to the line of taxis. He haggled with one of the drivers, who didn’t let the language barrier stop him from demanding more money that he should have.

 

Yuuri was staring out the window as they went down the streets of Moscow and Victor watched his face, wondering what his pupil thought of the city.

“Наш национальный герой, Виктор Никифоров, сегодня вернулся тренером для одного из этапов серии Гран-при по фигурному катанию.” _Our national hero, Victor Nikiforov, has returned as a coach in the Figure Skating Grand Prix Series._

He jumped as soon as he heard his name on the radio.

“Это ж вы, да? А-то смотрю я – лицо у вас знакомое!” the taxi driver said. _That’s you, isn’t it? I thought your face looked familiar!_

“What did he say?” Yuuri asked quietly.

“И как живётся там, в Японии?” the taxi driver went on. _And how is life over there, in Japan?_

“Хорошо.” _Good._

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“So you can only _swear_ in Russian?” Victor whispered back.

“I can swear in several languages…”

Victor tried to convey with his expression that this didn’t make it any better.

Yuuri reclined in his seat and said nothing.

“Говорят, что вы влюблены в своего ученика,” the taxi driver piped up. _They say that you’re in love with your pupil._

Victor blushed. “Это правда.” _It’s true._

“Тут, как говорится - любовь зла, полюбишь и козла.” _It’s as they say: love is evil, it’ll even make you fall in love with a goat._

Victor had a big smile on his face. “Мой Юрий – это подарок свыше.” _My Yuuri is a present from above._

“And now you’re talking about me,” Yuuri grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

The press swarmed around Victor as soon as he and Yuuri finished checking into the hotel. He stood there, a cup of coffee he’d grabbed on the way in his hand and his sunglasses still on his face, as if he was expecting the sun to make a sudden appearance any minute. It made him look like a celebrity trying to avoid being recognized, which wasn’t the kind of celebrity Victor was at all.

“When are you returning to figure skating? What is it like to be back in Russia as a coach? Have you decided to retire permanently?” They weren’t original questions, but the press wasn’t going to let that stop them from asking them.

Yuuri stood several steps away, leaning against a wall and watching everything with mild interest. He knew they would be safe here, but he was keeping an eye on the reporters just in case. One of them remained quiet the whole time and Yuuri was eyeing her with extra suspicion.

Yuri Plisetsky walked into the lobby, sulking at the whole world as usual.

“Until the Rostelecom Cup is over I won’t comment on any future plans. Right now I see a lot of potential in Yuuri Katsuki’s skating.” Victor said. “I’d like you all to focus on Yuuri at the Rostelecom Cup.”

The press saw an opening and leapt. The quiet reporter beat all the others to it: “Mr. Nikiforov, if skater Yuuri has that much charisma, don’t you want to face him as a fellow competitor?”

There was a pause. The press held their collective breath. Yuri Plisetsky paused halfway across the lobby to listen to the answer. Yuuri Katsuki found himself waiting for it as well.

_If that had been me, I would’ve told them what I think of the freedom of the press and just the press in general. But you’re so soft you will just give them a rain of sugar instead. Or will you actually say what you think? What will it be, Snowflake?_

“Hey, it’s Yuri!” Victor exclaimed and wrapped an arm around him. “Did you all see the short program I put together for Yuri?”

 _Why am I not surprised?_ Yuuri sighed.

Yuri knocked the coffee out of Victor’s hand with his fist. “Quit acting like you’re still the top Russian figure skater! I’m the star in this event!”

He stormed off and Victor smiled as if he’d been complimented.

Yuuri rolled his eyes. _You’re lucky you’re such small fry, Yuri, or I would’ve tanned your hide for that._ He stepped away from the wall and up to Victor. “I need to talk to you about something urgent,” he lied and led him away from the press. _I want to compete against you, Victor, and I want to know what you think about that, but now is probably not the time to bring it up._

Yuuri remained quiet throughout the elevator journey. This time his room was next to Victor’s so they could – if the mood took them – practice synchronized door opening and closing.

Victor stopped at his door. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Nothing,” Yuuri said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You know, I’m always here to talk if –”

“Yeah, yeah, door is always open and all that nonsense. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He paused, trying to guess by Victor’s expression what exactly was going through his mind. _What do you want, Victor? You can’t be happy stuck as a coach when you can still compete and you’re not the type to retire early to avoid embarrassment. But… are you the type to keep chasing medals or …?_

Victor smiled. “What is it, Yuuri?”

“Why do you skate, Victor?”

“Because it’s fun!”

 _That sounds like exactly the kind of answer I should’ve expected._ But with all his naiveté that sometimes seemed too good to be true and Yuuri couldn’t help feeling like there was something he was missing. Was Victor really the way he appeared? Could anyone _really_ be the way he was, or was there more to him than what was on the surface?

But he’d asked around. If Victor _had_ been hiding something, they would’ve found it by now.

Unless he was really, really good at his job. He didn’t have to be from a rival gang. There was always the party they kept forgetting about: the law. But pretending to be a world champion to neutralize Yuuri Katsuki seemed like a bit too much effort.

Sometimes a sense of suspicion is good: it can save a person’s life if acknowledged and acted upon properly. And sometimes it can be a destructive force, tearing apart the party doing the suspecting and everything within a four mile radius.

Yuuri caught Victor’s hands and leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “Tomorrow I will skate Eros just for you,” he whispered and watched Victor blush and sway a little on his feet.

No, he was just being paranoid.

Phichit had checked and Yuuri trusted him.

Still a little pinch of suspicion remained and he just couldn’t get rid of it. He had to go and talk to _her_. If she looked him in the face and said everything was fine, it had to be. They had too many shared interests for her to betray him and she’d know about Victor better than anyone.

Yuuri released Victor. “Go get your beauty sleep, Snowflake.”

 

The atmosphere the next morning was so tense that Yuuri waited for someone or something to snap. It was the last competition before the final and it would determine which four lucky skaters would get to compete in Barcelona with the two skaters who’d already made it. And Yuuri, being Yuuri, merely rolled his eyes and acted as if it was just another skating competition, which – to be fair – it was.

He and Victor were waiting patiently for his turn to skate when Jean-Jacques Leroy of Canada made his appearance.

“Emil landed a quadruple loop, too. Applause!” He clapped theatrically. “Victor did the same jump at last year’s exhibition.” He marched straight past Yuuri to loom over Victor. “I want to see it again!”

“You sure are rude for someone who’s supposed to be from Canada,” Yuuri said, remembering the jokes he’d heard back in Detroit about that country. “Isn’t that against the law over there, or something?”

“No, it’s not –” Jean-Jacques began to protest.

“So I suppose you want to get it all out of your system while in a foreign country,” Yuuri went on, warming up to the subject, “because I heard that over there they put people in jail for it. Although, they will let you out if you promise never to do it again.”

Jean-Jacques opened his mouth to argue and took in Yuuri’s expression, which suggested that he actually wanted to have this argument, and changed his mind. “I’ll see you later.”

Yuuri and Victor headed for the ice rink.

“Is he also…?” Victor asked quietly.

“Him? No. Phichit checked once, out of curiosity, and didn’t find anything.” Yuuri shrugged. “Just a lot of arrogance.” He unzipped his jacket and slipped it off.

“Your shoelaces are untied!” Victor exclaimed and bent down to tie them.

_Great, now I feel like one of those kids I competed against several weeks ago!_

Victor stood up and smiled at his pupil. Yuuri shook his head and went out onto the ice.

“Victor! Victor!” someone chanted and the rest of the audience picked it up.

Victor turned to wave happily to the crowd.

 _The return of the hero, huh? I don’t think so!_ Yuuri watched Victor for several seconds with an unimpressed look on his face. _Alright, I’ve had enough of this._

He gripped Victor’s tie and pulled it towards himself, bringing their faces close. Then he raised his hands, took Victor’s face and kissed him. They were on live TV. Who knew how many millions were watching? But he didn’t care.

Somewhere out there was the person who kept sending assassins after him. Let them see. Let them know that Yuuri Katsuki didn’t get scared easily and would always do what he wanted come what may.

_I’ve taken your legend from you and I won’t give him back. And right now I’m going to enjoy this kiss._

He pulled away and locked eyes with Victor. “You’re mine,” he whispered, “and I don’t like sharing.”

Victor’s face was all red. He tried to stutter out some sort of response and Yuuri wondered if he was going to faint. _We’re going to have to work on that weak heart of yours, Victor. I can’t have you passing out all the time. But right now…_

Yuuri licked his lips. “The taste of Victor,” he said, “not to be confused with the taste of victory.”

He waited for Victor to pass out, but Victor merely turned redder. _Maybe there is hope for you yet._ Yuuri released him and skated out onto the ice.

_I want them to hate me for taking you away. I want them to hate me and know they’re powerless to do anything._

He got into position and spotted Yakov next to the kiss and cry. The music started and he blew a sarcastic kiss at Victor’s coach. _Just try and stop me, old man._

After that the only thing left to do was to skate.

_I bet you look at me and think ‘there goes sweet and innocent Yuuri Katsuki’. Well, I’m definitely not sweet and I sure as hell am not innocent. My coach is, but not me. Me… I’m something else entirely and today I will show you that you cannot handle me at my fullest potential._

He really found himself skating for his coach this time. He was facing Victor almost the entire time. Near the end he passed by really close and bit his lip suggestively.

Victor had his handkerchief pressed to his face, as always.

Yuuri reached the end of his routine and froze in the final position.

The audience cheered and applauded. The commentator was saying something, but Yuuri ignored him. He faced his coach and was taking in the look on his face.

_That may have actually been too much. Ah well, I hope you enjoyed your innocence while it lasted, Snowflake._

He headed for the kiss and cry, curious what Victor would say this time.

“Yuuri… that was…” Victor couldn’t finish.

“Deep breaths,” Yuuri said.

“That was…”

“…too much?” Yuuri suggested. “Too much Yuuri Katsuki for one five-time champion to handle?”

Victor kept opening and closing his mouth.

Yuuri took him by the arm and led him to get his scores. “You’ll get it later,” he promised.

“But- but you don’t even know… You don’t know… what… what I wanted to s-say.” He dropped onto the bench and Yuuri sat down next to him.

_It’s written all over your face._

“And the scores for Yuuri Katsuki are…” _Don’t forget the dramatic pause for effect._ “…109.97!”

_Good job, students, today you get a big golden star and full marks on your exam! You’ve definitely learned the point of the lesson. Good luck mopping up the classroom afterwards, though._

Yuuri turned to look at his coach and realized Victor had dropped down on his knees beside him. He picked up Yuuri’s foot and kissed his skate.

“Oh my! Overcome with happiness, Nikiforov kissed Katsuki’s skate!” Even the commentator sounded flustered.

The press was certainly thrilled with this development. Cameras flashed to the accompaniment of excited chatter.

“I don’t know what that was supposed to be, but you better go and wash your mouth before you kiss me next time,” Yuuri said, but there was a smile on his face.

The living legend of figure skating had his hands on Yuuri’s knees as he stared into his pupil’s face. Yuuri reached out, pulled the bloodied handkerchief out of Victor’s pocket and made a show of wiping his mouth with the only clean corner.

Something caught his eye and he looked up to see Yuri Plisetsky out on the ice, but the kid could wait.

“Kiss me.”

It was like something out of a silly romance novel, even if figure skaters are sadly underrepresented in romance novels, but a romance novel nonetheless. It was just a shame that when Jean-Jacques went out on the ice he beat Yuuri’s score. Or that when Yuuri woke up the next morning he didn’t find himself in his own bed, or his coach’s bed. In fact, he wasn’t in a bed at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the translations aren't exact, but I tried to get them close.


	16. Don’t Mind Me

Yuuri Katsuki went from asleep to fully awake in five seconds without opening his eyes. It took him two seconds to establish that he was tied to a chair, but only by the arms. He kept his eyes closed. Somewhere close to him he heard Victor wake up and exclaim in surprise. Whoever had him had Victor too. And they didn’t even bother to tie his legs!

_Amateurs._

“Awake at last, Yuuri Katsuki?” a voice growled into his ear.

“And what if I said I wasn’t?” He opened his eyes and took in Victor’s worried face in front of him.

Someone punched Yuuri in the face.

“I can see we’re going to have a very intelligent discussion about the meaning of life,” Yuuri said.

“I have,” a man grabbed Victor by the hair and yanked his head up, “your boyfriend right here, and my knife right here.” The knife was thrust within several centimeters of Victor’s face. “So this is how it’s going to go: first I will carve up his face. Then I will cut up his body. And only _then_ will I kill _you_.”

Yuuri gave an exaggerated yawn. “How original,” he said in a bored voice, stretching out his feet in the most relaxed way possible for a person tied by his arms to a chair. “And then I’m sure you’ll tell me your plan to do… whatever it is you do. Oh, do go on. I’m all ears. I need to catch up on sleep and I have jet lag, so I will listen to anything you have to tell me. I promise not to interrupt.”

The man dropped Victor and waved his knife under Yuuri’s nose. “You bastard! You stuck up son of a –”

“Not in front of my coach,” Yuuri interrupted. “He gets upset when he hears people swear.”

“Shut up!” The man grabbed Yuuri by the hair.

Yuuri caught Victor’s eye. “Count to 100, Snowflake.”

“What the hell does that mean?” the man demanded.

“One…”

“Your biggest mistake,” Yuuri said, “was to tie a _figure skater_ to a chair only by the arms.” He kicked out and heard a satisfying crack.

“…five…”

Yuuri rose to his feet, lifting the chair behind him, and took on everyone else in the room. He moved really fast, catching them all by surprise before they could remember that they had guns they could shoot him with. By the time he got to the last man he was reaching for the gun in his pocket, but Yuuri swung the chair around and knocked him out.

“…ninety-eight…”

“You can stop counting now,” Yuuri said. He struggled with the rope and sighed. “Well, they’ve got good quality rope, I’ll give them that.”

“What now?” Victor asked.

“Now we untie each other.” There was nothing for it, but to use his teeth and he bent over Victor’s hands, tugging at the knots, taking care not to hurt his hands.

“That was amazing, Yuuri!”

Yuuri mumbled something, his mouth full of rope. Eventually the knot gave way and Victor pulled free and stood up. He rubbed his hands and smiled at Yuuri.

“And now you have me tied to a chair, Snowflake,” Yuuri said, lowering himself into a sitting position. “What will you do next?”

Victor rushed to untie him and Yuuri rolled his eyes. _You’re too innocent for this._

He stood up much more dramatically than he’d intended, thrusting out his arms like a hero rising from the floor to bring dark vengeance upon the heads of the bad guys. As memories of the previous evening filtered into his conscience he felt his anger grow. They’d drugged his food! He’d gone for dinner with Victor and the bastards drugged his food! And suddenly he became all too aware of the plans he’d had for what would follow dinner.

“Where is my thank you kiss?” he asked Victor, noticing the way his coach was staring at him. And then another thought occurred him. “Wait, hang on.”

He searched the lead thug’s pockets for his gun. As soon as he found it he straightened up with a frightening gleam in his eyes. “This is for threatening to cut Snowflake’s beautiful face, you bastard!”

The shot rang out. Victor flinched.

Yuuri pocketed the gun. “Okay, kiss me now.”

 

They managed to return in time to catch the end of the women’s figure skating competition. Yuuri sat next to Victor, holding his hands with both of his own and watching Mila Babicheva skate. When they announced her scores she beat the world record that had been her own in the first place.

Yuuri’s grip on Victor’s fingers tightened. _If after all this time you turn out to be someone else, if you betray me, I will kill you with my own bare hands._

Mila smiled at the audience and caught his eye as if by accident.

Yuuri raised Victor’s hands to his lips.

She blinked.

“Yuuri…” Victor whispered.

He felt his heart beat faster in his chest. _Time,_ he thought, _I have to give him time._ He released Victor’s hands and looked into his face. “You better be careful, Snowflake, or I might just cause an _international_ _incident_.” He pitched his voice just right so that even Victor would catch the intended innuendo.

Then he got up and put his hands in his pockets. “Come on.”

There was a soft thud as Victor fainted.

Yuuri sat down with a sigh.

 

It was the last day of the Rostelecom Cup, as well as the day of the free skate program for men’s figure skating. Yuuri watched the Russian Yuri skate. He hadn’t seen his free program before and he had to admit (only to himself, of course) that it was impressive.

Victor’s arms were wrapped around him. It seemed that he couldn’t pry his coach off him with a crow bar, if he tried. Yuuri wondered if Victor was aware of the expression on his face, or if Victor knew what it was he so obviously wanted.

Yuuri had never been interested in the so-called “pleasures of the flesh” (he’d always been too busy screwing up people’s lives to care about screwing actual people), but now he found himself sitting at the metaphorical table, sharpening his fork and knife and demanding to be served. Or not, since the dish was already there and it was just a case of figuring out how exactly he was supposed to eat it. Of course, there were guides, picture books with instructions and so on, but what he really needed a guide for was how to deal with Victor-faint-at-the-merest-suggestion-Nikiforov.

“I’m up next,” Yuuri said. “Do you think you could release me for 5 minutes so that I can skate?”

Victor pulled away and blushed. “I-I’m sorry, I… uh…”

Yuuri took his jacket off and handed it to his coach. “I’ll forgive you just this once.”

 _Let’s see,_ Yuuri thought, skating out onto the middle of the ice, _I may be in second place after the short program, but I would need four quads to get first place._ He got into position and the music began to play. _I wonder what Victor will think if I…_

There was a smirk on his face as he executed jump after jump and then went into a spin. He waited until the second half before he jumped.

“A-amazing!” the commentator exclaimed. “A quadruple flip! The signature move of his coach, Victor Nikiforov!”

He messed up the landing, but spun around on the ice and kept going. If it had been his exhibition dance, he might have gotten away with the suggestion that it was all done on purpose, but this was a competition and it would cost him points.

 _To hell with it._ He added another jump and went into the final spin.

 

Victor beamed as Yuuri stood on the podium with the bronze medal around his neck. He hadn’t been pleased about ending up in third place, but Victor was proud of him regardless.

“Thank you,” a voice whispered next to him.

Victor turned around and saw Mila standing next to him. “What for?”

She smiled. “Don’t mind me. Just talking to myself.”

Victor watched her walk away and turned back to look at his pupil who was now having an argument with both Yuri and Jean-Jacques. It was hard to tell what they were arguing about for where he stood.

And then he remembered where else he’d heard her voice. _That’s so sweet. I look forward to seeing you again._ He turned around, even though he knew she’d already left. It couldn’t have been her, could it? He would have recognized her if it had been!

 

It was their last evening in Moscow and Victor insisted on taking Yuuri out for what he called a walk even though that wasn’t an adequate description at all. First of all, because they made most of the journey by metro and, secondly, because Yuuri would have described it differently, but didn’t want to have to deal with another faint.

_It’s a date. Just call it what it is. Why is it so hard to say?_

They climbed up to the surface and Yuuri realized they had arrived at the Red Square. _Ah, yes, let’s go to the most popular tourist attraction and get stuck in a crowd._ He didn’t like crowds: it was harder to keep an eye on his surroundings in one, for a start.

He held onto Victor’s elbow as they navigated their way around people.

Yuuri opened his mouth for a suitably sarcastic comment when he spotted their destination: the ice rink.

It was packed with people as well and it looked like there was a line of people waiting to go out on the ice.

Victor pushed to the front and asked the man at the entrance something in Russian. The man answered in a bored tone of voice with the glazed over eyes of someone who just spent a whole day explaining the same thing. Then he looked up and his eyes widened in recognition.

“Victor Nikiforov!”

 _And now the whole line wants his autograph._ Yuuri sighed.

The man got an autograph and a photo and then Victor and Yuuri were let through. Next thing they knew the ice rink was cleared of everyone else.

_Isn’t fame a wonderful thing? Here comes His Majesty! Out of the way, peasants!_

Yuuri watched Victor ask for skates from the little rental area off the side of the rink and then accept two pairs. He sat down on a bench and started to take his shoes off. It took him two whole minutes to realize that Yuuri hadn’t joined him.

“Aren’t you going to skate, Yuuri?”

“After they cleared the ice just for you?”

“What?” Victor looked around in surprise.

“You mean you really didn’t notice?” Yuuri laughed. “Alright.” He took the pair meant for him and sat down to pull them on.

Phichit sent him the news article afterwards. The media came up with all kinds of sentimental headlines. One of them even had a terrible pun that only people who write headlines would consider funny. It was just a relief that Victor didn’t attempt any lifts. He seemed to have forgotten all about their audience and acted as if it was just another day of practice at the ice rink in Hasetsu. And they even played romantic music over the speakers.

An hour of skating what turned into an almost synchronized, but very definitely improvised routine later Yuuri found his mind preoccupied with something else. _You’re a grown man, Victor, why does this have to be so hard?_

He went around in a circle and then reunited with Victor in the middle of the rink where they caught each other’s hands and went around together.

He should’ve been tired. Why wasn’t he?

There was a big smile on the five-time champion’s face and Yuuri knew that, despite his frustration, he wasn’t angry. Who could be angry at a big idiot like Victor Nikiforov? It was like being angry with puppies.

 _But I’ve been angry with puppies_ , he thought as Victor brought him closer. _So, maybe, one day I will be angry at you, but until that day…_

“Should we go back, Yuuri?” Victor asked. “You must be tired.”

“Oh yes, very tired. I’m barely standing up. I think I will fall over any minute,” he said.

Victor missed his tone entirely and put an arm around him just in case Yuuri _did_ fall over. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that.”

_If I were to faint, wouldn’t that be something?_

They got off the ice to the sound of applause and Yuuri found that he didn’t mind at all that the audience was chanting Victor’s name again.

As the skaters all rushed back to the ice rink he thought he’d glimpsed Mila’s face in the crowd. When he blinked she wasn’t there. Was she keeping an eye on him or was he just going paranoid?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever since Qeencce commented that this fic is like 'Dark Side' by Phoebe Ryan (if you take it from Victor's point of view), I've been listening to that song on repeat. And I can definitely imagine the conversation that follows after Victor hears this song.  
> Victor: Yuuri, I'm in love with your dark side.  
> Yuuri: Are you implying I have a light side? Because I don't. What you see is what you get.


	17. It’s a Promise

_“A-amazing!” the commentator exclaimed. “A quadruple flip! The signature move of his coach, Victor Nikiforov!”_

_Yuuri messed up the landing, but didn’t let that stop him as he kept going._

_Victor watched, his mouth open wide in amazement. There was a strong energy behind Yuuri’s movements. It was one he’d only gotten a hint of before. All the drive and determination could be seen in his face. He added another jump, determined he wouldn’t be outdone._

That’s my pupil, _Victor thought, still unable to believe it._

_He radiated the strong, concentrated anger that, to Victor Nikiforov, was the pure essence of Yuuri Katsuki and Victor found it very heady indeed._

_In other circumstances, no doubt, he would’ve jumped into another kiss, but this time it took all of his force of will to keep standing._

_Yuuri skated to the kiss and cry and Victor caught him in an embrace. “That was amazing, Yuuri!”_

_“Wasn’t my worst skate,” Yuuri said with a shrug that Victor understood all too well: he’d hoped to do better._

_“I’m sure you’ll do even better in the Grand Prix Final.”_

 

Victor sat on the sofa in his room, staring down at the article about Yuuri Katsuki. Instead of talking about his skill the journalists seemed to be more interested in the relationship between the skater and his coach.

He thought back to the press conference after the Rostelecom Cup.

_“Tell us: is it true? Are you dating Victor Nikiforov?” one of the reporters asked._

_Yuuri gave them an incredulous look. “_ This _is the question you’re asking me? Don’t waste my time.” He walked off, ignoring their protests and refusing to say any more on the subject._

_He never answered,_ Victor thought. _What does that mean?_ He sighed and flipped to the next page of his magazine.

They were back in Hasetsu for the few days remaining before the Grand Prix Final. It was the evening after another long day of practice and Yuuri had snuck off again. Victor had to resign himself to Makkachin’s company.

“What are you reading?”

Victor jumped up in surprise.

Yuuri was leaning against the doorway.

“Oh just… I got this figure skating magazine during the Rostelecom Cup and I thought I’d read it.” He beamed at Yuuri and he came over for a look. “They have an article about you.” He flipped back to the article he’d been reading and showed Yuuri a big two-page spread with a photo of the both of them skating in Moscow.

Yuuri sat down beside him and looked at the article. Victor shifted closer, holding the magazine open for him. Yuuri put his left arm around Victor’s torso and took him by the chin with his right hand, bringing Victor’s face to his own for a kiss. Victor responded and Yuuri slipped his right hand under Victor’s shirt, sliding it down over his stomach. Victor’s heartbeat increased as he felt the gentle touch of Yuuri’s fingers. He dropped the magazine and reached out with his hands.

Suddenly Yuuri released him and shifted away on the couch.

Victor’s blood went cold as he realized that instead of pulling Yuuri closer he’d pushed him away. How could he have gotten the two mixed up?

Yuuri rose to his feet. “In your own time, Snowflake,” he said and walked out.

 

Yuuri sat on the beach where Victor had confessed to him for the first time (or as near the spot as he could get) and tossed pebbles into the water. There was a strong wind and the air was cold but he didn’t care.

He hadn’t intended to start anything. He wasn’t even sure he would have gone through with it himself, but he wanted to plant the idea in Victor’s mind. Victor always got so flustered that Yuuri figured he’d need some mental preparation at least so that he wouldn’t faint next time.

And still he felt upset that Victor had pushed him away. He hadn’t expected a reaction like that.

Maybe Victor was wrong. Maybe he was lying all this time without even knowing it. Maybe he didn’t love him after all.

Yuuri threw another pebble into the water and reclined on the sand.

He tried to imagine what Victor was thinking. He’d come all this way to take as a pupil someone who killed people when he himself could barely lie without getting upset about it. And while all this time the person was pushing him, Victor, away, he was probably convinced he was falling in love because of the whole forbidden fruit or playing hard to get argument. Now here was this person getting all physical and returning his feelings and suddenly Victor was scared.

Yuuri sat up, picked up a twig from the sand and tossed it into the water. _Hell, I would probably be scared witless too._

“Yuuri!”

He turned around and saw Victor running towards him. “I’ve been looking for you!” He stopped to catch his breath. “Yuuri, I’m –”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri suddenly said.

“—sorry,” Victor finished.

They stared at each other.

“Why the hell are you apologizing?” Yuuri asked.

“Well, I… uh… I didn’t mean to…” Victor flailed.

“I’m the only person who should be apologizing,” Yuuri said. “I’m sorry, Victor.”

“Please don’t send me away,” Victor pleaded and Yuuri gave him a surprised look.

“Who said anything about sending you away?”

“I understand if after what happened you don’t want to see me ever again.” He stared out at the ocean. “I probably would too.” He bit his lip. Yuuri watched him hesitate and wondered what new thing was bothering him this time. “Do you hate me, Yuuri?”

“I don’t hate you.”

Victor sighed as if he’d hoped that Yuuri would say something else. “No matter what happens, I still love you.”

Yuuri remained still, his eyes on the waves. _How sure are you?_

They’d shared many comfortable silences when neither of them needed to say anything. Yuuri had enjoyed those even when Victor broke them to tell another silly story. This wasn’t one of those silences. This was a new kind of torture: the temptation to speak in a constant struggle against the feeling that it was too late to speak now.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you angry.” Victor broke the silence at last. “But the truth is: I can’t go. It’s too hard. If you make me leave, I… I think I might die.” He sat down on the sand next to Yuuri. “Can you forgive me? Can you –”

“You’re _not_ the one who needs to apologize,” Yuuri said. “You didn’t –”

“But I love you, Yuuri! I messed up! I got so nervous I messed up!” He grabbed Yuuri’s hands. “Please say you forgive me!”

“How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t need to apologize?”

Victor looked into Yuuri’s face and Yuuri sighed.

“Why do you love me, Victor?”

“I-I don’t know…”

There was a smirk on Yuuri’s face now. “I guess you can’t help who you fall in love with. Come on, I have an idea what we can do.”

He rose to his feet and beckoned to Victor to follow him, pretending he couldn’t see the embarrassed expression on his coach’s face.

 

The main advantage presented by the ice rink in Hasetsu was that, thanks to Yuuri’s friendship with Yuuko, he could have the ice rink all to himself (and his coach, of course). This also meant that when he needed to, he could make sure there were no witnesses to what he decided to do. And he didn’t want anyone to know that he was about to do something as sappy as skate a duet with his coach. Properly this time too.

“One disadvantage to participating in men’s single skating is that there are elements you can never do, because they require a second person. I’ve always wanted to try lifts, for example,” he lied. He’d never cared for lifts, but Victor wasn’t to know.

He pulled out his phone and found the videos he’d prepared ahead of time, which he then demonstrated to his coach. “Well? Is it too hard for a five time champion or does he think it’s beneath his dignity to –”

“No, no!” Victor argued. “I want to try it! Honest!”

They tried different elements, starting with the simpler ones and ending with the more complicated ones. Yuuri watched Victor’s reaction the whole time.

At first Victor hesitated and blushed, but his competitive spirit took over as soon as Yuuri suggested they switch roles back and forth.

Who cared about their height difference? And maybe it _was_ more comfortable one way than the other sometimes, but Yuuri felt like he’d achieved what he wanted, especially when they lost their balance and fell on the ice in a tangle of arms and legs and Victor’s head was buried in Yuuri’s stomach, but he wasn’t as embarrassed about it as before.

Victor laughed. “I – I can’t remember the last time I fell so hard!”

Yuuri had a sudden suspicion that he knew what Victor would say next. He even opened his mouth, a sarcastic reply ready and waited.

“I guess that would be when I fell in love with you,” Victor went on.

Yuuri closed his mouth. _Ah hell_. “You never run out of them, do you?”

“Run out of what?”

“Sappy things to say. You should publish a book: Sappy Phrases for all Occasions.” He pulled his fingers through Victor’s hair and went on, teasing away, saying things that would have probably hurt Victor’s feelings, if Victor had actually been listening and he could see that Victor wasn’t.

 

It took two days to work out a mock routine that they would skate over and over again. And then Yuuri became aware of a factor he’d neglected to take into account.

“I need to practice my routines,” he said the following morning. _At this rate I’ll swallow you up before I’m ready myself._

“One more time,” Victor pleaded, forgetting who was the coach and who – the pupil.

Yuuri obliged.

When they finished Victor couldn’t refrain from clapping. “Oh, if only we could perform this before an audience!”

“Tell you what, Snowflake, if I don’t win gold at the Grand Prix Final, I will skate my exhibition program with you.” _As if I’m going to let a bunch of kids beat me!_

“Really?”

Yuuri held out his hand. “It’s a promise.” _One I won’t have to keep of course, but if it makes you happy._

 

“I wish we could compete in pair skating,” Victor admitted that evening. Yuuri’s arms were around Victor as they sat on the sofa in Victor’s room. “I can’t think of anything better than to be on the ice at the same time as you.”

“A bit late to start a career in pair skating, don’t you think?”

“But imagine them announcing us, Yuuri!”

“Oh yes: here comes the five-time champion… the commentator stops and recites all of your titles and medals, takes a breath … and his ex-pupil: Yuuri Katsuki. Today they’re making fools of themselves together. What a team!”

Victor slid across the few inches of the sofa between them, drew a breath and climbed onto Yuuri’s lap. “Then we wouldn’t have to compete against each other,” he went on as if he was still sitting next to him. He sat with his back to Yuuri and so the pupil couldn’t see his coach’s face.

“Is there something wrong with that?” _Damn it, Snowflake, do you have any idea what you’re doing to me right now?_

“No… I…”

Yuuri buried his face in Victor’s neck. He slid his hands over Victor’s arms until they reached each of his hands. He laced his fingers through Victor’s. Victor remained still the whole time.

“Yuuri…” he whispered after a while.

“Hmm?”

“I… was saying that… What were we talking about?”

Yuuri bit back everything that demanded to be said in that moment. He had a whole range of options, starting from “you’re beautiful, Snowflake” and going downhill from there.

“Snowflake…” he whispered, kissing Victor’s neck.

“Yuuri…” Victor whispered back.

“Yuuri! Victor!” Yuuri’s mother called. “Dinner is ready!”

“Barcelona,” Yuuri promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the accidental hiatus, but I have several pathetic excuses for it (which is the same as one valid excuse, right?).  
> Pathetic excuse #1: I made the mistake of committing to a complicated cosplay while writing two fics. As I got closer to the convention it was for I had to drop writing temporarily.  
> Pathetic excuse #2: I then went to the aforementioned convention.  
> Pathetic excuse #3: I keep writing future chapters instead of current ones (at some point this should pay off, in theory anyway)  
> Pathetic excuse #4: My odd sense of humour insists that posting chapters 17 and 18 of Bad Apple at very nearly the same time as chapters 10 and 11 of The Devil Wears Gucci is funny. It's probably not.


	18. I Don’t Deserve You

Ingredients for a proper Grand Prix Final from Yuuri Katsuki: six skaters who can jump at least one quad, six coaches of various backgrounds (prior experience not strictly required), one skating venue (unless the hosting country wants to get creative), one Short Program, Free Skate and Exhibition Dance with costumes per skater, an audience (filling all the seats is mandatory), a couple of commentators (preferably with original speeches to make) and a never-ending supply of flowers, toys and whatever else the audience feels like throwing onto the ice (Note from Yuuri Katsuki: no underwear). Add intrigue and humour to taste. Store in a cold place. Serve at regular intervals. Feeds millions.

Warning: may contain soppy scenes.

 

It was a cold December evening in Barcelona, but Victor didn’t let that stop him from going up to the hotel pool on the roof in his swimming trunks and going for a swim. He wanted some time alone to think, so it was just his luck that he was soon joined by another skater.

“I thought I’d have the pool all to myself, but I should’ve expected that a Russian would go swimming in this weather.” Victor looked up the speaker.

“Hello, Chris.” The Swiss skater stood in a bathrobe and a pair of sunglasses, sunglasses being a very useful item to have on a chilly December evening.

“Where is your coach?” Chris asked with a smile.

“Sleeping off his jet lag.”

Chris pulled off his bathrobe and joined Victor in the pool. “And how is life in Paradise?”

Victor sighed. Yuuri had surprised him twice that evening.

 

_When they arrived at the hotel to check into their rooms, Yuuri stepped in and requested one for the both of them. Victor could only stare with his mouth open as the blood rushed to his face. He’d followed Yuuri to their room only to stop by the door and wait to see what Yuuri would do next. To his disappointment, Yuuri tossed aside his leather jacket and fell asleep almost right away._

_Victor sat by the bed for a while and then decided to find some way of entertaining himself elsewhere so that he wouldn’t wake Yuuri up. He paused in the doorway before he left, throwing one last look at Yuuri’s sleeping form over his shoulder._

 

_Barcelona_ … Even the memory of the way his pupil had whispered that word made him blush. He dived under the water.

He rose to the surface and found Chris next to him.

“Are you alright?”

“I-I’m fine.”

“Are you sure about that?” Chris lowered his sunglasses and looked Victor in the eye. “I’m always here if you want to talk.”

“I… uh… I don’t… I’m fine, really.”

“Especially since I know you’re completely clueless about this.” Chris patted him. “There’s nothing wrong with that: we all have to start somewhere.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

For a second it looked like Chris was going to answer the question, but he smiled instead. “How is that pupil of yours?”

“He’s sleeping.”

“So you said, but in general?”

Victor put his hands on his face. “I’m in love with him, Chris.”

“Yes, I know. In fact, pretty much everyone knows. Have you told him? I mean, just because it’s really obvious to everyone else, doesn’t mean it’s obvious to him.”

“I told him…”

“Good,” Chris nodded in approval.

“…several times.”

“I see. And what was his answer?”

“He… didn’t give me one,” Victor admitted. _He always avoids it with a sarcastic comment or just by changing the subject._

Chris remained silent.

“What do you think that means?” Victor asked, suddenly frightened by Chris’s silence.

“Oh, I’m sure it will be fine.” Chris climbed out of the pool after his phone. “Let’s take some pictures.”

They struck different poses and snapped photos of each other as Victor tried to push his worries to the back of his mind.

“Having fun?”

Victor turned around to see Yuuri standing by the pool in his swimming trunks and smirking. He felt the blood rush to his head as he took in his pupil’s figure. “Hello, Yuuri. Did you decide to go for a swim?”

Yuuri lay down on one of the deck chairs. “Nope.”

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Nope.” He closed his eyes and drifted off.

“And _that’s_ your pupil,” Chris said with the most suggestive smile Victor had ever seen.

Victor got out of the pool and hunted around for dry towels to cover Yuuri with. “I know!” he hissed back, returning to Chris’s side. “Sometimes I can’t believe I’m really his coach!”

Chris laughed.

They didn’t stay long at the pool. Chris complained he was getting cold ten minutes later and then tried to persuade Victor to go drinking with him.

Victor climbed out of the pool and shook Yuuri gently.

“Yes?”

“We’re going, Yuuri.” Victor shivered. “I’m cold.”

“There’s a surprise.” Yuuri sat up, lifted one of the dry towels he’d been using as a blanket, rose to his feet and wrapped it around Victor, enveloping him in his arms. “Are you warmer now?”

“Ah! Y-yes!”

Victor’s mind treacherously reminded him that there was only a towel separating him from Yuuri. He felt himself sway slightly.

“You’re going to faint, aren’t you?” Yuuri whispered.

“N-no!”

Yuuri released him and stepped away. “I’m going back to our room. You do whatever –”

“I-I’m coming with you!” Victor interrupted hotly, clutching the towel around him. He saw Chris turn to give him a curious look and turned redder.

Yuuri stared at Victor for several seconds. “I’m too tired right now,” he said just loud enough for him to hear.

Victor nodded and watched Yuuri leave.

 

The following morning Victor woke up to find that the other bed (the one Yuuri had pushed closer to his before dropping off to sleep again) was empty.

He went downstairs to get breakfast. He was starting to feel as if Yuuri was avoiding him. Not in the mood to talk to anyone, he avoided everyone himself and returned to their room to wait for his pupil until a glance at his watch told him that practice would start soon.

Maybe Yuuri had already gone on ahead?

He found the change room full of five of the six finalists and, _of course_ , the missing one was Yuuri. There was nothing to do but wait and he watched the other skaters leave for the ice rink one by one.

 

Yuuri walked into the change room, his hands in his pockets, looking more carefree than he’d ever done in his life. It was enough to make anyone who knew him really well suspicious.

Victor sat all alone in a corner, staring down at his hands with a sad expression on his face.

Yuuri debated asking the age old “why the long face” question and grinned mischievously as he realized that he had something better. He pulled one hand out of his pocket and tossed a small object into Victor’s lap, right between his hands.

Victor jumped and stared up at a Yuuri. “Ah! I didn’t see you come in.” Then he looked down at the object Yuuri had tossed at him and turned bright red.

Yuuri leaned over him with his usual smirk. “Now don’t tell me you don’t know what that is.”

“Y-Yuuri!” Victor stared up into his face in embarrassment.

“Because I won’t believe you, but I will be more than happy to give you a demonstration.”

“A-after practice,” Victor stammered and pocketed the object after some hesitation.

“Obviously,” Yuuri shrugged. He took Victor by the hands and pulled him up to his feet. “What’s eating you? Someone I need to sort out? Or are you just worried your shirt doesn’t flatter your face?”

“M-my shirt?”

“It does, in case you were wondering.” He leaned his forehead against Victor’s. “What is it?”

“Do you like me, Yuuri?”

Yuuri stepped back. “No, I’m just going out with you because I’m bored.”

“W-What?”

“I was being sarcastic!”

Tears poured down Victor’s face.

“F- Jesus- God- What the hell?” Yuuri exclaimed, unable to settle on a single swearword and very nearly saying all of them at once. “Why do you think I was just – Oh for the love of –” He grabbed Victor and kissed him.

Someone was coming down the hall, but no force in the universe could make Yuuri pull back, not until he was done.

“There,” Yuuri said, breaking the kiss at last. “You know I don’t hold with any of that sentimental crap, but… ah, hell…” He smiled and elbowed Victor lightly. “I wouldn’t object to seeing your face every day, even if you are a big baby.”

Victor laughed. Yuuri sat down and changed into his skates.

“Come on, Snowflake.” He rose to his feet. “Time for practice and then I promise you the ride of your life.” He paused in the doorway. “And maybe I’ll even take you around on my bike. If I’m feeling generous.”

Victor embraced him from behind and buried his face in Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Just don’t die of happiness or I’ll have to dump you.”

“Dump me?” Victor repeated.

“As in going from being your boyfriend to not being him anymore. God, I feel like a damned dictionary!”

Victor released him. “Boyfriend?”

“Oh, were you waiting for an official announcement? If so – this is it,” Yuuri walked away, laughing.

“Boyfriend?” Victor repeated and then rushed after him.

“Well what do you want to call it, then?” Yuuri thought back to his time in Detroit and smirked.

They were at the ice rink now where the rest of the finalists were practicing.

Phichit noticed Yuuri, stopped and turned around to wave at him. “Yuuri!”

“Hey Phichit! Have you met my new squeeze Victor?” He asked, draping an arm over Victor’s shoulder.

Phichit and Yuuri stared at each other in silence for several seconds and then burst out laughing.

“What? What does that mean?” Victor asked.

Yuuri leaned towards Victor’s ear, paused for a moment and then whispered, “I’ll tell you later.” He stepped back and there was his usual smirk on his face.

Victor put his hand to his ear.

Yuuri turned around, pulled his skate guards off and exited onto the ice as if nothing had happened. He joined Phichit on the ice and the two of them exchanged a few words before skating in opposite directions to go over their routines again.

 

Practice was over. The finalists exited the ice one at a time. Chris was the first one to leave the ice and he headed towards Victor right away for a chat. Yuuri crossed the ice and caught the end of their conversation.

“Anyway, we should go grab a drink,” Chris suggested.

Victor gave him a smile. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

The smile was wider now. “I have a hot date.” He looked both pleased and slightly embarrassed.

“Really? With who?”

“With me,” Yuuri cut in. _Who else is there?_

“Well done!” Chris congratulated Victor. “Let me know if…” He looked at Yuuri. “Never mind.”

Yuuri crossed his arms over his chest and waited patiently for Chris to leave.

“Come on, Snowflake.” He nodded at the exit once everyone else had gone.

 

They returned to their hotel room and Yuuri saw the look on Victor’s face. “Having second thoughts?”

“What? No.”

“You can still go for drinks with Chris. I’m not –”

Victor pressed his lips against Yuuri’s, wrapping his arms around him. Yuuri stepped back, caught off guard and not responding right away.

Victor broke the kiss. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered. “I really, really don’t deserve you.”

“And how the hell did you decide that?”

Victor’s face was mere inches away. “I… I’m not as… I’m not… You don’t…” He struggled for words and pulled a hand through his hair. “I’m not as good as you.”

“You have an interesting definition of “good”. Or is this based on skills in bed? Because we don’t exactly know the answer to that one, do we?” He started to unzip his jacket.

Victor backed away towards the bed, pulling Yuuri by the arms with him. “Take me,” he whispered, his lips mere centimeters away from Yuuri’s.

“If you’re sure.” He tossed his jacket onto the floor. His shirt followed soon after. “Although, I should warn you that if after all this time you turn out to be a honey trap, I’m taking you to the afterlife with me.”

Yuuri had no experience in dating, it was true, but he wasn’t completely ignorant, so he did some research and then bought what he described to Victor as the tools required. And, of course, the second important step was to make sure that Victor knew about them as well. Watching Victor’s face as he explained what was what was an education in itself.

It had definitely caught Victor off guard. _Fair enough_ , Yuuri thought, _if someone had followed me into bed while taking their clothes off and then declared a time out to give me a lecture I’d be surprised too._ But he hadn’t been able to find the right moment up until then. _Aren’t you lucky, Snowflake? I wonder how many other people can boast of a sex ed. class like yours._

Victor had some odd ideas, naturally, and Yuuri did his best not to laugh at them even though it was hard. He also had to keep a straight face while giving the demonstration he’d promised earlier. He was completely certain that a simple smirk would’ve resulted in Victor passing out. He even managed to refrain from making sarcastic remarks (and that took every ounce of self-control he had), but only until Victor lay down on his stomach.

“I see I’ve bored you so much you’re falling asleep.” He sat on the bed, his eyes on what he secretly decided was Victor’s best feature as he talked.

“Yuuri!”

“I suppose that means I’ll have to make sure you stay awake. Although, it might be harder to keep you from fainting, so I suggest you make an effort yourself.”

“Yuuri…”

“What?” he asked, getting a bottle and squeezing its contents onto his hand.

“I love you.”

_Let’s see if you’re still singing the same tune when I’m done._ He slid his hands over Victor’s buttocks and watched his face go red. _Definitely his best feature._

“Yuuri!” Victor gasped.

“No need to get excited,” Yuuri said quietly, “it’s just my fingers.” He leaned over Victor’s ear. “Do you want me to give you a warning?”

“Yuuri!” There was no mistaking that tone.

“Calm down, I was only teasing.” He climbed over Victor and kissed his back. “This isn’t the time to be shy, Snowflake. I hope I don’t need to explain that.”

“I know.”

“So feel free to make any sound you like.”

Yuuri had done the research, alright, and the mechanics were simple enough. They had to be for the average human to be able to do it. But it didn’t end up going quite as he’d imagined it. He watched Victor’s reactions the whole time, taking note of each breath and gasp. He took it slow, worried that Victor would faint after all. Had Victor been different, Yuuri would’ve probably been whispering something dirty into his ear, but he wasn’t going to risk it.

Victor gasped out his name. “Yurochka.”

Yuuri shifted slightly so he could put his head over Victor’s shoulder. “What did you call me?” he whispered into his ear.

He could feel how warm Victor’s cheek was and didn’t need to look to see that his blood had rushed to his face. “Yurochka,” Victor repeated.

He turned Victor over to get a better look at his face.

“Sugar Snowflake,” Yuuri whispered, taking Victor’s face in his hands, “ _My_ Sugar Snowflake.”

Victor smiled.

_To hell with it!_ Yuuri thought. _We made it this far._

He set out exploring Victor’s body with his mouth while Victor confessed over and over again, as if unable to stop. The whole time Yuuri was conscious of the feel of Victor’s fingers in his hair and the sound of them both breathing.

_More, dammit, I want more!_ he thought.

Here he was far out in a country that was completely foreign to him, looking around, getting his bearings and using Victor’s reactions as his compass. _What do you like most, Snowflake? Let’s see if I can find out._

“Y-Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed.

“To be honest, I never thought I’d find myself between the thighs of a living legend, either,” Yuuri said, his hands on the aforementioned thighs. “Tell you what, let’s switch positions later and compare notes.”

“I…” Victor stammered nervously.

Yuuri chuckled. “Impatient to have a go already?”

“I don’t think… I don’t think I can…”

“Nothing difficult to it. Here, I’ll prove it to you.”

“Yuuri!” Victor gasped.

_I think I’ve found your favourite spot after all. Good thing I’ve got you lying comfortably._

 

It was two hours later. Victor awoke with Yuuri’s nose digging into his neck and his arms wrapped tightly around his coach, as if worried Victor would try to leave while he slept.

Victor shifted carefully to check if Yuuri was awake. Yuuri’s eyes were closed. There was a calm look on his face and for the first time since Victor had become his coach he looked truly at peace, almost vulnerable.

Victor brushed Yuuri’s hair carefully out of his eyes. He’d never seen Yuuri with his hair not gelled back before. He remembered watching Yuuri fix his hair after a motorcycle ride and blushed. It felt like an entire lifetime had passed since then.

_I don’t deserve you._

He’d expected Yuuri to lose control and cause him pain. He hadn’t expected Yuuri to be careful and worry about his well-being.

_I don’t deserve you_. The words went round and round in his head like a mantra.

He was weak and worthless. What could he do to prove he deserved Yuuri? Medals and awards were meaningless with him.

Victor sighed. He’d fallen deep and there was no way for him to crawl out now. All he could hope for was to stay with Yuuri. Separation would break his heart irreparably, he was sure of it. Each time Yuuri told him to leave to save himself Victor felt a stab of pain. Now he was a target too. Now Yuuri had to let him stay.

He remembered Yuuri’s face, all red and passionate. _My Sugar Snowflake._ The memory on its own was enough to make his heart beat faster. All he could say in return was _I love you_ and still it felt weak. If he said it enough times would the words take on the strength of meaning he wanted them to have?

They’d raised him properly, correctly. Lying is wrong. Don’t get into people’s way. Be polite. Be helpful. They’d spoiled him and he grew up polite, honest and selfish. He followed a schedule. He helped when he could, but not because he really wanted to. Everyone around him would treat him with the respect due to a champion and generally kept their distance. He felt trapped at the top of the podium, forever performing tricks for the adoring public, unable to stop and do something else with his life.

And then – three years ago – he’d met Yuuri Katsuki. It was at Skate America.

 

_He was crossing the street when he saw the car coming for him and froze in fear._

_Someone grabbed his arm, yelled “Come on!” and hauled him out of the way._

_For several seconds he couldn’t understand what had happened and then something clicked in his brain. He stared at his rescuer. “Y-you saved my life!”_

_“What kind of a moron are you?”_

_“Hey! You okay?” They turned around and saw that the driver had pulled over and was now shouting at them._

_“You bastard! Why don’t you look where you’re going?” Yuuri yelled back, flipping the man off. “And you had a red light too!” He spun around and snapped at Victor. “And you! You’re a figure skater! You need accidents like fish need bicycles!”_

_He stormed off, leaving Victor alone and bewildered._

_Two days later Victor saw him skate, but what really stuck in his memory was the sight of Yuuri riding away on a motorcycle after the competition ended. He still remembered the anger Yuuri had radiated then._

 

He owed Yuuri every single medal he’d won since that time, but he could never pluck up the courage to approach him. Each time they were in the same competition he’d watch Yuuri skate like it was a miracle. He’d almost resigned himself to following Yuuri like a shadow until that video of him skating made its rounds on the Internet and even then he wouldn’t have become Yuuri’s coach if it hadn’t been for…

Victor felt Yuuri stir and then heard a groan.

“Ah hell! I fell asleep! Just freaking great!”

Victor sat up and smiled at him. “I fell asleep too.”

“Yeah, yeah… That doesn’t make me feel better, you know.” Yuuri stretched. “My mouth feels disgusting.”

Victor blushed.

“Don’t get any ideas.” Yuuri sat up and rubbed his head. “Shower and then let’s go sightseeing. I can do with a walk and some fresh air.”

Victor whispered something and Yuuri turned to look at him. “What was that?”

“I said it will be like a date.”

“No. It’s not going to be _like_ a date.” Yuuri climbed out of bed and smirked at Victor. “It will be an actual date.” He turned away. “God! This is what I get for sleeping with you! Now the sentimental crap really _is_ rubbing off onto me!”

 

They walked out together and – after some hesitation – Victor took Yuuri’s hand.

“I know … um somewhere nice where we can go…” he offered.

“Then lead the way.” Yuuri squeezed Victor’s hand and smirked at him.

They visited several popular sites, took some photos and ate at a restaurant. Yuuri watched Victor, waiting to be taken to the place he’d promised.

_Is he hesitating? I’ve visited all of these places before!_

“Somewhere nice” turned out to be the singing fountains. Yuuri resisted the urge to point out that he’d seen them before as well.

They watched the fountains for a while before Yuuri dragged Victor off somewhere out of sight of the tourists for what he mentally called some good quality making out.

“Yuuri…” Victor whispered between kisses.

“Let’s go back…” Yuuri said. “Forget Barcelona. I want to see the inside of our hotel room. No,” he reconsidered his words, “actually that’s wrong. I don’t care about our hotel room. I want to see you naked again.”

Victor blushed and said nothing.

 

Yuuri sat on the bed, still fully clothed, and waited for Victor to take his coat off. For some reason the skater had gotten really flustered and forgot how sleeves worked.

“And we’ve now removed the left sleeve at last, ladies and gentlemen!” Yuuri narrated in a mock sports commentator voice. “But will the legendary skater master the right sleeve?”

“Stop,” Victor pleaded, doubling over in laughter. “I can’t…”

Yuuri got up and pulled the coat off Victor’s shoulders with ease. “Anything else I can do for you, Your Majesty?”

“I… uh…” Victor blushed. “Um… I…”

“With great pleasure, Your Majesty. If you would care to lie down on the bed and I shall do the honours with the rest of your clothes.”

“Really, Yuuri, you don’t…” he protested, lying down.

Yuuri climbed on top of him. “Don’t what?”

Victor took in the expression on Yuuri’s face and blushed. “You can do whatever you want.”

Yuuri chuckled. He kept his eyes fixed on Victor’s face as he unzipped his pants and slid them down with exaggerated slowness. He did the same with his underwear.

Victor felt Yuuri’s hands slide over his thighs.

“You can keep your shirt, if you want,” Yuuri told him.

Victor pulled it off.

Yuuri’s phone rang.

“Goddammit!” He pulled it out of his pocket and answered it. “What?”

Victor could hear Phichit’s excited voice, but couldn’t make out any of the words.

Yuuri had a very frustrated look on his face as Phichit finished. “Phichit, I currently have Victor Nikiforov sprawled out naked in front of me. Do you _really_ think I will join you all for dinner? Really?”

He hung up and turned his phone off. Then he put it on the bedside table, leaning forward so that his face came close to Victor’s.

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed.

“What’s wrong? Worried about your reputation?” The Yuuri Katsuki smirk was back.

“No! I – I thought you would be worried about yours.”

“The rumours are already going around so who cares? Besides, I suspect my reputation might benefit from this.” He pulled his coat off and tossed it aside. “Now, where should I start?”

“I love you, Yuuri.”

“Well, if you’re going to put it that way, I think I’ll start down low and work my way up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I’m treading close to the line between a mature and explicit rating. If you think I should change it to explicit, let me know, because honestly I’m not sure myself.


	19. A Selfish Bastard

When Chris came down to breakfast the morning of the Short Program segment of the Grand Prix Final he spotted Victor sitting alone and headed straight for his table. He searched around for Yuuri, but the skater was nowhere in sight.

“Good morning! Where’s your pupil?”

Victor smiled at Chris. “He left to make a phone call.”

Chris took the seat next to him. After Yuuri’s bold declaration the previous evening, there was only one thing the finalists could talk about. “So what’s it like: sleeping with Yuuri Katsuki?”

“Better than you can possibly imagine,” Victor said and covered his face with his hands. “I’ve wanted to say that for a long time,” he admitted in a half-whisper.

“That good, hmm? He certainly looks good in leather.” Chris had an odd thought. “Hang on, if he skates sarcastically, does that mean that he makes love sarcastically too?”

Victor opened his mouth and then paused to think about this. Chris could see him replaying the previous night in the cinema of his mind. He even blushed a few times.

“No,” Victor said at last.

Chris chuckled. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Victor insisted.

“Hello, Chris.” The sound of Yuuri’s voice made him turn around.

“Morning!” Chris gave him a smile. “I hope you’re treating my friend well.”

Yuuri ignored this. “Let’s go, Victor. I have a gold medal to win.”

“Yes.” Victor got up and took Yuuri’s hand.

Chris watched them go. “Gold medal, huh?”

 

At the other end of the breakfast room Mila read the new text on her phone and smiled.

“Operation Victor Nikiforov going well?” a voice asked and she looked up to see Phichit standing next to her.

“What are you talking about?”

“That innocent tone won’t work on me. I know all about it.” Phichit gave her a disapproving look.

Mila sighed. “Will you tell Yuuri?”

“And ruin such a wonderful romance? Of course not! Who do you take me for?” Phichit sat down beside her and there was the hint of a smile on his face. “In all the years I’ve known him I’ve never seen him this happy.”

“I considered his happiness too, you know.”

“I expect you did.” Phichit pulled out his phone and showed Mila that it was recording every word of their conversation. “And now I want some of the profit.”

“Of course you do.” She sat back with a bored look on her face.

“All I have to do is hit ‘send’ and Yuuri will know all about your operation.”

Mila smiled. “Not if I’m faster.” Her hand slipped under the table and Phichit felt a gun pressing into his side.

“Come on, Mila, I’m your friend!”

“That’s what you said to Yuuri and now you’re betraying him,” she pointed out.

“As are you.”

“I only made sure he wasn’t getting in my way. Consider it a blessing that I used the nice method. I had oh-so-many not nice methods to choose from.”

“Heartbreak is nice?” Phichit asked quietly.

“That’s the beauty of it: Victor doesn’t know how useful he’s been. And, if my predictions are correct, he’s about to become even more useful.”

“What more do you want?” Phichit demanded.

“That’s none of your business.” Mila put the gun away and Phichit relaxed in his seat. “I have an offer. I will give you 5% in exchange for a favour.”

“If what you say is true – and believe me I will check it thoroughly – then I won’t tell Yuuri anyway. You don’t need to pay for my silence.” Phichit crossed his arms over his chest and smiled, “In fact, I’m going to make sure he never hears a single word about it.”

“Good. But I have another task for you.”

“What is it?”

“Find out who is trying to kill him. Yuuri may get in my way sometimes, but he’s too useful for me to want him gone.” A mischievous sparkle appeared in her eyes. “Besides, I have a soft spot for him.”

“I’ve been trying to do that for several months already. What makes you think I’ll have better luck now?”

“Because I have a skillful ally for you.” Mila slipped her fingers into the inside pocket of her jacket (now normally the Russian jersey didn’t come with inside pockets, but Mila had hers tailored for her needs) and pulled out a small card. “He will assist you in your… enquiries.”

Phichit took the card from her hand. “Well, well, well, the rumours are true after all. Who knew the dark horse was such a dark one indeed?”

The card had a phone number and a name.

Otabek Altin.

 

The hero of Kazakhstan was a title used only by those who didn’t really know Otabek Altin. True, he’d never hurt anyone on Kazakh soil and so – as far as the citizens of Kazakhstan were concerned – he was a hero (for his achievements in figure skating, of course), but there were certain circles where Otabek’s name was mentioned as another word in a long string of curses.

He was cold-hearted. He was rude. He was rescuing Yuri Plisetsky from his over-excited fans.

“Are you coming, or not?” he asked Yuri and the Russian skater was swept away before he could even realize what had happened.

That had been one day ago. Now both skaters sat at breakfast together. Yuri was telling Otabek about his time in Hasetsu while Otabek listened without saying a word.

Otabek raised his eyes and watched Mila hand Phichit a card. Very briefly he and the Thai skater made eye contact. Phichit left the breakfast room. Mila returned to her texting. Otabek continued to listen to Yuri’s story.

Yuuri Katsuki remained ignorant of what happened at breakfast after he left.

 

Yuuri was the first to skate his short program. He stood on the ice, facing his coach, waiting for words of encouragement and inspiration from Victor. Or so it seemed to the average person in the audience.

“I don’t want to be the one doing all the work all the time,” Yuuri whispered into Victor’s ear. “So it’s your turn tonight and who knows? I might just find out which variations on your name are my favourite.”

Victor’s eyes were lowered as a blush spread over his cheeks.

“Promise me a really good time.”

“I don’t think I can… do it as well as you,” Victor whispered.

“I’ll teach you.”

Victor took his pupil’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

Yuuri opened his mouth, but there was too much to say and not enough time to say it all. _I’ll say it later. Just give me a couple of minutes, Snowflake._

He freed his hand gently and skated away.

“Representing Japan: Yuuri Katsuki!”

Yuuri got into position and waited for the music to start. He spun around and looked at Victor before beginning his routine.

Last night he’d been bold and sarcastic, but deep down he was shocked and a little flustered by his own actions. He’d seen the look on Victor’s face in the morning and then spotted it on his own face in the mirror. Somehow, the concept of belonging rooted itself in their minds.

_That’s stupid,_ he told himself and jumped. _People just do whatever, have sex with whoever. It doesn’t matter._

Yuuri wasn’t thinking about fidelity or marriage. He was thinking about responsibility. _He isn’t going to leave me now, so I’ll have to look after him. I’ll have to protect him._ He thought about the deal they’d made. _You’ve been a good coach, Victor, but what do we do next? What do you want to do next?_

He’d changed the composition of the jumps to have the quadruple flip near the very end, gambling everything on it for a good score. It was time to put it to the test.

He always acted cool and calm and never showed his worry about his skating, but this time he was all too aware of both their reputations being on the line and suddenly Victor’s reputation mattered more than his own. Sweat poured down his forehead. He felt himself go tense

He jumped and landed very nearly perfectly, but very nearly perfectly wasn’t enough. It wasn’t perfect: he’d touched the ice with his hand. _Damn!_

And just like that the short program was over. He stood still, trying to catch his breath and cursing himself.

He turned around and faced Victor. His coach looked crushed. Yuuri skated across the ice towards him. He had nothing to say then and nothing to say even when they sat in the kiss and cry.

Yuuri looked at the score and then back at his coach. Victor’s head was lowered after he’d seen how many points the judges gave his pupil.

“I screwed up, alright?” he said quietly into his ear. “I gambled everything on one jump and now I’m paying the price. This has nothing to do with you. It was my own decision! So don’t beat yourself up over it!”

Victor raised his eyes and looked into Yuuri’s face. He was silent.

Yuuri got up and held out his hand. “Nothing left to do but watch the show. What do you say, Snowflake?”

Victor nodded and followed him to the seats. By the purest of coincidences (or Yuuri assumed it was a coincidence, in any case), Victor picked the seats near the Crispino siblings – Sara and Michele. Yuuri exchanged a quick look with them before sitting down.

Yuuri didn’t watch the other skaters out on the ice; his eyes were on Victor the whole time, trying to understand what was going through his mind.

Phichit skated and got a score just under Yuuri’s. The other Yuri came out onto the ice and broke the record for the short program set by Victor several years earlier, but as everyone applauded and cheered, Yuuri studied the expression on his coach’s face.

Yuri joined them not long after, took a seat behind them and stuck his feet up on the back of Yuuri’s seat.

Yuuri turned around. “I take it you’re happy with one world record and don’t care that you might not skate ever again?”

Yuri lowered his feet. “You’re just sore that you’re not going to win.”

“The competition isn’t over yet.”

Chris was next and Victor shouted words of encouragement. By the time Otabek left and JJ was on the ice Yuuri got the message. _Oh, Snowflake, I can’t tie you down like this._

The audience chanted JJ’s name and he basked in the attention.

Yuuri yawned theatrically. “Wake me up if anything interesting happens.” He leaned back in his seat and continued to watch Victor through half-closed eyes.

Jean-Jacques skated to a song he sang (he skated to a recording of it, he didn’t actually sing _and_ skate at the same time) about how great he was, which Yuuri always thought was asking for it. How did the other skaters resist the urge to give him a smack around the ears?

 Everyone had pushed themselves, seeing Jean-Jacques as the skater to beat when – oh irony of ironies – he was the one who ended up with the lowest score. Sometimes the wind blew the wrong way, someone said the wrong word or the stars ended up in the wrong position and a person who had it all going for them messed everything up.

Yuuri sat up and watched. He knew that feeling all too well.

To show their support the audience was doing the biggest sing-a-long Yuuri had ever seen. As an added bonus everyone was crying. He rolled his eyes. _This isn’t a fairy-tale. If you believe hard enough things won’t be magically better or even different._ Behind him Yuri was having a screaming fit.

And just like that the short program segment of the Grand Prix Final for men’s figure skating was over.

Some skaters went to celebrate. Some of them went somewhere to cry. Yuuri Katsuki returned to his hotel room, bracing himself for a difficult conversation.

He delayed as long as he could, but when Victor came out of the bath that evening, looking cleaner and more innocent than ever Yuuri knew it was then or never.

“I’ve decided to get a new coach,” he said. He had no patience for beating about the bush and got to the point right away.

“What?”

“Yes. You’re no good, Victor.”

He waited for Victor to argue or to protest at least, but Victor merely lowered his head. Water glinted in his eyes and a tear flowed down his cheek, followed by another. He didn’t make a single sound and didn’t even raise his hand to wipe them off as his tears rained down onto his lap, catching the light as they fell. Yuuri watched, mesmerized by the sight of the living legend crying. He’d seen people’s faces twist in fear and contort in all sorts of ways as they wept loudly and begged for their lives. He’d never seen someone look beautiful when they cried. Before now.

“Well this is new,” Yuuri said at last. “For the first time in my life I don’t know what to say.”

“You were right,” Victor whispered.

“I was?”

“I fell in love with a bastard.” The word sounded wrong coming from Victor and that was probably why it affected Yuuri so much. He clenched his fists and bit his lips angrily. Victor kept his eyes lowered and couldn’t see the expression on Yuuri’s face. Yuuri forced himself to suppress his feelings.

“Well I’m glad you finally figured it out,” he said coldly, hating himself with every ounce of his being. If he had been different, soft-hearted, maybe he wouldn’t have made Victor cry, but he was Yuuri Katsuki and he didn’t know how to be different. He was Yuuri Katsuki the bastard, who made his boyfriend cry.

“A selfish bastard,” Victor added and the tears flowed faster.

“Yeah, well you’ve never been selfish in your life, have you? You’ve never thought about what was best for you. Don’t you want to compete again? This is me deciding –”

“No.” Victor stood up. “I’m going to decide. If I want to stay as your coach, I will. And if I want to compete, I will, but until then I’m getting a separate room.”

Yuuri watched Victor stuff his clothes into his suitcase, tie his bathrobe tighter around him and march out of the room without even throwing a look over his shoulder.

_Well… I suppose that was what I wanted? Then why the hell doesn’t it feel like it?_


	20. There’s a Difference

Yuuri didn’t see Victor the following day and didn’t bother showing up for practice. Phichit sent him several texts, asking for details and sharing some information (although Phichit probably didn’t know that he was giving Yuuri knew information), but Yuuri didn’t bother replying. Apparently after leaving his room, Victor stayed with Chris, but didn’t tell him anything (or, if he did, Phichit couldn’t get it out of him).

 _This was our agreement, Victor,_ Yuuri thought, speeding through the streets of Barcelona on his bike. _There’s no point in throwing a fit. Besides,_ he smiled bitterly, _I never said we were over. But it looks like we might as well be._

He sped up, going 20 kilometers over the speed limit, but he was still so angry. _Why did I accept that idiot as my coach? I should’ve sent him away and found some other clueless victim, someone who is disposable._ The sensation of speed usually had a soothing effect on him, but now it was making him even more restless.

_Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! I should’ve just retired! I could rule the underground and forget about figure skating. Who needs all those medals, anyway?_

He had to pull over when he realized that tears were clouding his vision. _I’m going too fast: my eyes are tearing up from the wind,_ he told himself, as if trying to justify his actions to some invisible judge.

He stood by the side of the road and thought back to the way Victor kept confessing to him, day after day. _Why the hell did he fall in love with me?_ His next memory was that of Victor gasping out the phrase over and over again as Yuuri kissed his chest. And then he thought of his state of mind right before his short program. _I was going to say it too, damn it!_ He kicked up dust with his shoe, climbed on his bike and drove back.

 

Victor found him at breakfast on the morning of the free skate. He sat down beside Yuuri without a single word, not even a “good morning”. They avoided eye contact and didn’t say anything to each other. When it was Yuuri’s turn to skate, they headed for the ice together in silence.

Yuuri got on the ice after Phichit and waited to see if Victor would say anything.

“Do you like me, Yuuri?” The question caught Yuuri off guard and he stared at his coach. Victor had a serious expression on his face. There wasn’t even a hint of the blush Yuuri expected to see. “Please don’t avoid the question: I want you to answer with a yes or no.”

Yuuri skated closer to him and put his forehead against Victor’s. “No, I don’t _like_ you. I love you. There’s a difference.”

Victor wrapped his arms around his pupil. “Then why are you leaving me?”

“I never said anything about leaving you.”

“Win me that gold medal,” Victor whispered, “and make it up to me.”

 

“Do you know what that was all about?” Phichit asked Mila, joining her in the audience to watch Yuuri skate.

Mila smiled. “I thought you were Yuuri’s best friend. Hasn’t he told you anything?”

“No.”

“It’s lucky that Victor actually confides in me, then.” She reclined in her seat, her eyes following Yuuri as he skated out onto the middle of the ice.

“You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?”

“Nope.”

Phichit sighed. “I’ll have to get it out of Yuuri, I guess.”

The music started to play, but instead of his usual sarcastic routine, Yuuri was skating the lyrical composition sincerely.

Mila sighed. “This might become a problem.”

“Ah, yes, I love it when someone replaces one problem with another. Why didn’t you just tell him what you wanted?”

“Because I couldn’t sit by and watch Victor pine away. That idiot spent three years too shy to confront Yuuri. Do you have any idea how painful it is to see someone waste away like that?”

“Who knew Yuuri – stone cold killer Yuuri – could fall in love so deeply?” Phichit murmured.

There was a smile on Mila’s face. “I’ve studied Yuuri ever since I met him. He values loyalty above everything else.”

“What you’re saying is that if he finds out about your plan he’s going to kill you. And Victor.” Phichit looked back at the figure on the ice. “And himself.”

Yuuri jumped a quad and kept going.

Phichit sighed. “Trust Yuuri to be able to go out on the ice and land quads flawlessly after missing a day of practice!”

Yuuri landed another quad and Phichit exchanged a look with Mila. “Do you think he…?”

“Four. Knowing him, he’s aiming for four.”

Phichit shook his head. “What do you have planned next for him?”

“That’s for me to know and for you to guess at.”

“Incredible, isn’t it, how useful innocent bystanders can be?” Phichit remarked casually.

“Very,” Mila said with an enigmatic smile.

 

Yuuri got off the ice and Victor pulled him into an embrace. “Yuuri!” He buried his face in his pupil’s shoulder and wept.

Yuuri opened his mouth to say “my clothes are all wet now, thanks”, or “yes, that’s my name”, but couldn’t bring himself the say either.

Victor raised his head. “Let’s get your scores.”

They sat in the kiss and cry, Victor clutching Yuuri’s hands tightly.

“And the score for Yuuri Katsuki is 221.58! He’s broken Victor Nikiforov’s long-time world –”

“Yuuri!” Victor embraced his pupil. “To have your score beaten is the biggest honour a coach can hope for, but it’s also the ultimate insult for a competitor,” Victor whispered.

“You’re on,” Yuuri whispered back.

“But I don’t think I will let you run off to get another coach just yet.” Victor sat back and smiled.

“Will you get jealous, Snowflake?”

Victor raised one of Yuuri’s hands to his lips. “Yes.” He blushed and added, “And you already broke my heart once. Will you break it again?”

“I guess you’ll have to stick around and find out.” _I’ll make it up to you, I promise._

The skaters went out on the ice one by one, but Yuuri kept his eyes on his coach. That was the plan, anyway, but they were kicked out of the kiss and cry when Chris finished skating, and then the press surrounded him and bombarded him with stupid questions, and next thing he knew Victor had vanished.

 

“Yakov!”

The coach turned around at the sound of his name and saw Victor coming towards him. “What do you want now, Vitya? Can’t it wait? Yuri is about to go out on the ice!”

Victor beamed and stated his request.

“So you want to return to figure skating? It’s about time! But couldn’t you have picked a better moment to announce that? Honestly, Vitya, why can’t you do anything like a normal person?” Yakov shouted at the top of his voice, making people around them turn and stare, but they were speaking Russian, so few of the bystanders could understand a single word.

Yuri looked from his coach to the man he’d looked up to most of his life. “Hold on, what about your Yuuri?”

Victor smiled.

“You’re joking!” Yakov exclaimed. “I’m not –”

“Shut up, old man,” Yuri growled. He walked up to Victor and put his hand on Victor’s arm. “You’re really going to keep being his coach?”

Victor nodded and embraced Yuri. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“You mean insane!” Yakov kept ranting.

Yuri didn’t say anything. He’d followed the Japanese Yuuri’s skating career with interest. He often told himself that it was because Victor’s enthusiasm for the other skater was as contagious as a nasty disease, but deep down he knew that wasn’t the real reason.

“Maybe he’ll finally teach me how to fire a gun,” he whispered into Victor’s ear.

“Yuri!”

It was no wonder the Japanese Yuuri kept pushing Victor’s buttons: his reactions were always so funny. “He has to beat me first.”

 

Yuri skated out onto the ice to cheers of encouragement. He only bothered acknowledging Otabek’s shout and then made eye contact with the Japanese Yuuri who leaned against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He was alone.

Everyone on the Russian skating team knew that Victor spent three years pining after Yuuri Katsuki. It was no great secret. Mila even encouraged him to confront Yuuri. What they didn’t know was that the Yuri on their team looked forward to competing against the Japanese skater himself.

Yuri stopped, assumed his initial position and breathed out. _Everyone wants Victor to come back so they can compete against him and I know that you want to compete against him, but do you think he wants to compete against you? I’m willing to bet my life that I want to compete against you much more than he does._

The music started and he broke out into the mad tempo. _I want to keep competing against you and I want you to stop seeing me as a kid!_

His free skate was almost perfect. He only fumbled one jump and cursed himself for it.

_I won’t lose to you, idiot! I don’t know what will happen during the World’s or how things will change when Victor is back, but I refuse to lose to you right here and right now._

 

Yuuri wasn’t watching. He searched around for Victor, but instead of his coach he noticed the skaters sitting together, watching the kid. Phichit sat on Mila’s right side, while Sara and Michele Crispino sat on other. Sara leaned towards Mila’s ear and whispered something. Mila nodded.

“Yuuri!” Victor called.

Yuuri turned around to face him as they announced the Russian Yuri’s scores.

He didn’t win. The Russian Yuri had beaten him.

Victor walked up to him and Yuuri could see his coach was trying to read his expression.

Yuuri held out his hand. “Looks like you’re going to get your wish, Snowflake.”

Victor took his hand and Yuuri pulled him close with one quick tug of the arm. Victor nearly fell on top of his pupil. “I made sure everyone in the audience has lots of handkerchiefs to cry into,” Yuuri said. “Phichit promised to sell them all tea, hot chocolate and sweets. Are _you_ ready to skate the soppiest program in existence?”

Victor looked into Yuuri’s face. “S-sweets?”

Yuuri’s face split into a grin that usually promised something very unpleasant to everyone within a five-mile radius. This time he limited himself to whispering, “Yes, but the Victor Nikiforov is a sweet that only I’m allowed to have.” He paused, waiting for Victor to faint and felt his coach’s cheek burn against his own. “I thought it was delicious and can’t wait to taste more.”

“Yuuri…” Victor whispered.

The Russian Yuri walked past them and rolled his eyes. “Get a room!”

Yuuri opened his mouth to respond, but Victor’s head dropped onto his shoulder. “Ah hell!” Yuuri exclaimed.

But, to his great surprise, Victor was still conscious. “I love you,” he whispered and _then_ passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have two songs people associate with this fic (Dark Side by Phoebe Ryan and Check Yes Juliet by We the Kings). I’m curious if there are more suggestions. I guess we can have a kind of playlist?


	21. I Hope You’re Ready

Yuuri stood on the podium, feeling like he was taking part in the most boring version of musical chairs ever. The medallists from the Rostelecom Cup were shuffled around to get the medallists for the Grand Prix Final. And still he didn’t have a gold medal.

This time Yuuri didn’t get into an argument with anyone. He watched Victor while the Russian National anthem played and the other two skaters smiled for the cameras.

 _Are you ready for all the bad press that will follow, Snowflake? They won’t be just insulting your choice of music or costume this time. They will make comments on your private life. Our private life._ He smiled. _And I’ll give them all hell for it._

 

“This year’s Grand Prix Final silver medallist – Yuuri Katsuki!”

The audience applauded as all of the lights turned off.

A single beam of light illuminated a figure in the middle of the ice and music started to play. It was the duet version of the _Stammi Vicino_ aria – Victor’s free skate program from the previous season. Those that had followed Yuuri through all his competitions were probably puzzled by this, since his exhibition dance had been to a rock song the entire season.

_Here I am, skating a soppy program and in earnest too. Any minute now pigs will fly, I’m sure._

After their fight he didn’t think Victor would make the offer he had. But, as flattered as Yuuri was, he still thought it was a mad idea. He remembered the look on Victor’s face as he said _I will be your coach_ and Yuuri wondered if Victor would have been jealous if Yuuri took another coach. Did Victor know how much it meant to Yuuri that despite everything he still insisted on being his coach?

Yuuri jumped a quad and landed perfectly. The audience applauded. And then they cheered even louder as the living legend joined Yuuri on the ice.

“Yuuri Katsuki is skating with his coach, Victor Nikiforov, who has just announced his return!” the commentator sounded like he was jumping up and down from excitement. _Maybe, if I’m lucky he’ll damage the right audio equipment and I won’t have to listen to his stupid commentary._

Yuuri held out his hand and Victor took it. _Come on, Snowflake, let’s do this properly._

He’d watched pair skating and he’d seen the top pair perform. Now he wanted to give them something to think about.

They spun around, switching hands, and Yuuri circled the ice rink with Victor by his side. They held on to each other, unable to let go.

Victor turned his back to Yuuri, holding out his arms and tilting his head to the side.

“I hope you’re ready,” Yuuri whispered into his ear.

Victor turned around to face him. “Ready for what?”

They spun together, back to back. “Ready to lose to me,” Yuuri said over his shoulder.

The skaters turned to face each other again. Yuuri reached out and Victor leaned into his hand and closed his eyes briefly. “If you don’t win gold at World’s,” Victor said, opening his eyes again and smiling, “let’s skate together again.”

Yuuri spun around with a smirk. “It’s a deal.”

They got to the first lift and Victor picked Yuuri up to more cheers from the audience. Yuuri felt his mind go blank.

They were in perfect synch with each other, each element timed to the music. The next lift had Yuuri pick Victor up and Victor’s face spread into the biggest grin Yuuri had ever seen.

_Just don’t fall on your face from joy, Snowflake._

Two lifts later was the one Yuuri had insisted on, but – to Victor’s surprise – he’d insisted on holding up Victor, or, to be more precise: picking Victor up and spinning him around and then lowering him so that Victor had one skate on Yuuri’s thigh as he raised his hands and his other leg in the air to assume a graceful pose. _Watch Victor, the prima ballerina._ The cheers were almost deafening at that.

Yuuri helped Victor down.

 _Stammi vicino non te andare,_ the singers insisted yet again.

They went into the final spin, going down to their knees until they stopped with Yuuri bent over Victor, who held his pupil’s head to his chest.

The music ended and the audience cheered.

For several seconds they held their final position and Yuuri could hear Victor’s heart hammering in his chest. _Hollywood, watch and learn._

Victor released his head and the spell broke. Both skaters rose to their feet and bowed to the audience.

Yuuri smiled at him, “So, Snowflake which do you prefer: sex in bed, or on the ice?”

Victor blushed.

“I agree,” Yuuri nodded, “it’s a tough choice, especially considering how this way I can rub my trophy boyfriend in all their faces, while in bed I can rub my face –”

“Yuuri!”

Yuuri laughed as they got off the ice. They held on to each other while putting on their skate guards and then Yuuri found them a good spot to watch Yuri skate from.

Victor stood behind Yuuri with his arms around his pupil.

“Do you remember what he’s skating to?” Victor asked quietly.

“I thought it was something –” Loud music of the screaming-and-drumming variety started to play, “– sappy…” _Or not._

Yuri was out on the ice in sunglasses and a leather outfit. And he wasn’t alone: Otabek was sitting off to the side. At first Yuuri thought they were going to skate together as well but it soon became obvious that this wasn’t the plan.

 _Ah, finally a routine that summarizes all that you are: angry, dramatic and rebellious._ Yuuri’s face spread into a smile.

“Wow,” Victor whispered.

“I bet you Yakov didn’t know he was going to do this. God, I’d pay money to see his face right now.”

“Yuuri,” Victor said, “do you think we should interfere?”

“Why?”

“It looks like someone’s upset him.”

“Yeah: his coach, his choreographer and the big idiot who came up with _Agape_ for him. I wonder who that was.”

“Yuuri!”

They watched it until the end when Otabek pointed his finger at Yuri and pretended to shoot him. Yuri simulated the most over-the-top death Yuuri had ever seen and dropped onto the ice.

The audience went wild and Yuuri compared their cheering to the reception they’d given Victor and him. _Serves me right for agreeing to do something so sentimental._

“What do you think of that?” Yuri asked, getting off the ice.

Yuuri held out his hand. The gold medallist stared at it in surprise before he realized what was expected of him and gave the silver medallist a high five. He looked like he was celebrating several birthdays at once.

“This suits you much better. Don’t ever let them force you into sentimental nonsense again.” Yuuri turned to smile at the shocked expression on Victor’s face. “Unless you actually want to, of course.”

Otabek followed behind Yuri. The Japanese Yuuri had never met him before, but when they made eye contact like recognized like. Yuuri then took in the way the Russian Yuri looked at his friend.

_Oh boy, it looks like you have a type. I better get Victor out of here, because I think he does as well._

“See you at the World’s, Yuri,” he said, “where I promise to beat you,” he added and, because he was Yuuri Katsuki, also said, “as well as Snowflake over here,” he pointed his thumb at Victor’s chest.

 

“So how did _you_ end up doing a pair skate?” Phichit asked Yuuri. He’d cornered the silver medallist as soon as he’d spotted him at the banquet.

“I lost a bet,” Yuuri muttered, his eyes searching for something, or someone in the room.

The banquet hall was full of people chatting to each other in their best clothes and with glasses of champagne in their hands. It was as disgustingly proper as every year (ignoring half of the banquet the previous year). Yuuri was very determined to make certain that this year’s banquet would outdo the previous year’s one. Time to show these people how to live a little.

“With who? Your coach?” Phichit suggested.

Yuuri said nothing. There was a sour expression on his face as he debated whether strangling was also going to be part of the special events scheduled for the evening.

Phichit laughed.

“Shut up.”

“Was that what you had a fight about?”

“No.”

“Then what?” Phichit insisted. He really wanted to know what it was, damn him!

“It doesn’t matter.” Yuuri spotted the drinks table. “I need to make it up to him, but I’m too sober for what I have to do.”

“Oh really?”

Yuuri walked past him to the glasses of champagne. How many would it take for him to get to the right level of intoxication? Phichit will probably post the photos all over the Internet, but how much would it matter if he didn’t remember any of it?

He picked up the first glass and turned around.

“Before you go under: how much for not posting any photos publicly?” Phichit offered.

“Do whatever you want,” Yuuri grumbled.

“That’s what _you’re_ about to do. How sure are you that you –”

“Get lost.” He searched through the crowd until he found Victor at the other side of the room, chatting animatedly to Chris. “Here’s to you, Snowflake.” He downed the glass and reached for a second one. “And here’s to us.”

“Yuuri,” Phichit insisted, still very much there and still getting on Yuuri’s nerves, “think while you still can. I can give you a good deal.”

Yuuri swore and downed a third glass.

“This is your problem, Yuuri. This is why you always end up in a big mess: you leap head first and never stop to think.”

Yuuri snorted and downed a fourth glass.

“Maybe that’s enough now.” Was it the alcohol starting to kick in or did Phichit sound worried? It was probably the alcohol.

Yuuri reached for his fifth one and realized that there were only two left. How much would he need? How much would it take?

“Why bother wasting your time? Just order a whole bottle at once!” Phichit said sarcastically, making the first useful contribution that evening.

Could he do that? He finished with the glasses on the table and looked around the room.

There was a waiter with a tray with more glasses. Yuuri headed straight for him.

 

“Victor, you need to do something,” a voice insisted and the figure skating legend turned around to see the pride of Thailand standing in front of him. “Your boyfriend has gone insane: he’s trying to drink all the alcohol at the banquet!”

Victor apologized to Chris and went looking for Yuuri, which didn’t take long: all he had to do was follow the sounds of loud swearing.

“Yuuri –”

“There you are! I was just telling these,” he waved a hand around to take in the small circle of bewildered spectators, “people that the figure skating legend is here somewhere!” He marched up to Victor. His face was red, his tie was undone and there was an odd sparkle in his eyes. “And I heard that you’ve fallen in love with someone!”

“Yuuri –”

“So I said…” he paused and frowned, trying to remember what it was, “I said ‘Victor can’t fall in love with someone, he’s a saint’! Saints don’t go around falling in love with people!” He laughed. “Not with regular people, so I wanted to find you to tell you to…” he waved his arm around, as if trying to find the right words in the air around him, “to snap out of it!”

“But I can’t,” Victor protested, forgetting everything.

“Here, let me let you in on a secret,” Yuuri motioned Victor to lean closer and Victor obliged. “People are bastards,” he said in a loud whisper, breathing out fumes of alcohol into his face, “so you shouldn’t bother with them. Just… fly off into the sky, or wherever your home is and find someone up there who –”

Victor cut the words off with a kiss.

Yuuri pulled away and went on, as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “– who is like you. Here, take this.” He pulled his tie off and tied it around the top of Victor’s head. “And don’t you dare fall in love with anyone, got it?” he growled.

Victor took Yuuri by the arms. “I won’t again,” he promised. _Just this once. There won’t be a second time._

Yuuri smiled. “Dance with me.”

He was so hammered he couldn’t remember their feelings for each other, but he could still dance and Victor clung to him, expecting to support Yuuri’s weight any moment and finding instead that Yuuri was sweeping him off his feet again.

 _Dance me into the morning again,_ Victor thought, _and then sleep with me._

“Victor!” Victor looked up at the sound of his name. Chris was standing several steps away. “Yuuri promised me a dance off.”

“I did,” Yuuri agreed, suddenly having an excellent memory for detail.

“And you said I could pick the type of dance,” Chris reminded him.

Yuuri pulled his jacket off and handed it to Victor. “There’s only one type of dance you’re interested in.” He handed Victor his shirt next.

Victor watched in astonishment. He reached out and took Yuuri’s pants automatically. Parts of his brain were starting to close up shop, pull down the shutters and put up “gone for the holidays” signs. The only working bits of his brain were ringing in to point out that Yuuri was undressed and even drunk out of his mind was more attractive than everyone else in the room.

Chris smiled. “I’m glad we understand each other so well.”

Victor had no idea where the pole had come from. He also had no idea that both Chris and Yuuri could pole dance, but pole dance they did and Victor found his hand reaching for his handkerchief without even thinking about it.

Thirty minutes of gruelling competition later Chris surrendered and left to put his clothes back on.

“Come here, champion.” Yuuri beckoned with his finger, his back pressed against the pole.

Victor joined him. “I… uh… I don’t know how to…” he admitted.

“Kiss me,” Yuuri said and pulled Victor into a kiss.

 _Yuuri, do you still not remember?_ Victor broke the kiss reluctantly. “Sleep with me,” he whispered.

“How bold and how boring!” Yuuri fiddled with the tie Victor still had wrapped around his head. “I’m not very sleepy and I can think of something more interesting to do…” He slid a finger up Victor’s jacket. “But first you must beat me in a dance off!”

 _Beat you? I can barely keep up with you!_ He took Yuuri’s face in his hands and kissed him again.

Yuuri looked into his face with a smile that suggested that he knew what Victor was thinking. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re beautiful?” he asked and passed out.

Victor caught him, feeling his heart hammer in his chest. _You can’t forget everything, Yuuri. I’m your Victor. I’m your Sugar Snowflake._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever since I found out that the pair skate in the last episode has bits of Tessa and Scott’s free skate, I will forever assume that the end pose is the same as their. Fun fact: I drew that, but the other way around.  
> Also, did I ever mention that I'm aiming for 100k words with this fic? No? Okay, never mind. Carry on as normal.


	22. What a Cruel Dream!

Yuuri woke up, barely able to move his tongue. His first thought was: _Did I get drugged again?_ His second thought was: _What did Snowflake and I do last night? God, I hope it was good, because I feel like crap right now._ And his last thought was: _Ah hell, I drank again!_

He raised his head from the pillow, wondering if it was possible for him to crawl to the bathroom where he already knew he would be throwing up everything he’d had the night before, and his eye fell on Victor.

The living legend, who has so graciously decided to return to the world of competitive skating, was asleep, rolled up on his side, his hands under his head and a big innocent smile on his face.

_What do you dream about, Snowflake?_

But he didn’t have much time to dwell on this, so he rushed into the bathroom instead to dwell on his bad drinking habits and swear that this time, _definitely_ , was the very last. That was it. No more drinking for Yuuri Katsuki.

 

Two hours later, clean and presentable-looking, he was checking out of the hotel with Victor at his side. While they waited for their turn to talk to the receptionist Yuuri went through the photos Phichit had posted of the previous night.

Drinking. Dancing. Pole dancing.

He could live with that. He would _have to_ live with that.

He pocketed his phone and looked at Victor. “Alright, time to go home.”

 

Night fell in Barcelona. All of the skaters had checked out of their hotel before noon and most of them left the country. At first glance, it seemed as if the only traces of the Grand Prix Final which remained were the posters of the event.

Two figures lurked in an alleyway.

“How much is she paying you?” one asked.

“More than she’s paying you,” the second replied.

“What if I were to offer even more?”

“Are we going to find the person responsible or not?”

The first one laughed. It was a merry, almost innocent laugh. It certainly didn’t belong in such a nasty alley. The sound bounced off the walls like a fly trying to escape a glass cage.

“Are you ready to die?” the first one asked.

“Is that a threat?” For the first time in the conversation the second person had some emotion in their voice. It was the tone of voice used by someone who was hearing something for the hundredth time.

“No, but I nearly lost two good operatives because of this mission.”

“How much is Yuuri Katsuki’s life worth?”

The first figure stepped forward and his face came into a beam of dim light from the window of a nearby building. “More than you can possibly imagine,” Phichit said.

 

Victor and Yuuri’s return to Hasetsu was once again celebrated like the return of heroes from a long quest and Yuuri enjoyed raining on the parade immensely.

“We’re leaving the day after tomorrow,” he said.

“Leaving?” they exclaimed almost in unison and he mentally congratulated them for that.

“Yes. Victor is going to train in Russia, so I’m going with him.”

His mother got up and embraced him and then beckoned Victor over to embrace them both at the same time.

“Good luck, Yuuri! Thank you for taking care of my son, Victor!”

_I think I was the one doing the taking care of,_ Yuuri thought, _and who will thank me for it?_

“N-no problem,” Victor stammered out.

“I hope you have a good time in Russia,” Hiroko added.

“I’m sure we will,” Yuuri said and launched into sarcasm on autopilot, “I’m sure it will be sunshine and rainbows,” _and lots of sex_ , “from now on.” He tried to communicate his thoughts to Victor with a look and succeeded in making him blush.

“Good luck,” Hiroko repeated. “Let’s celebrate today and leave all the packing for tomorrow.”

“And it’s Victor’s birthday today!” Mari exclaimed.

_Oh damn! I forgot!_

 

They sat in Victor’s room in the evening, Yuuri not bothering to say anything about needing one room this time. Makkachin fell asleep on the floor at their feet, the excitement of his owner’s return having drained him completely of energy. Yuuri had his arms around Victor.

“What do you want for your birthday?” he whispered into Victor’s ear.

Victor blushed. “I already have everything that I want.”

Yuuri climbed onto his lap and took his face with his hands. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes.”

Yuuri leaned forward and caught Victor’s lips with his own. He pulled his hands away from Victor’s face and started to unzip his coat. He tossed it aside, not caring where it would end up. He had to pull away to take his shirt off.

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered.

“Don’t get too carried away,” Yuuri said, “I just realized I want to take you in my room.” He got off Victor’s lap and stepped carefully over Makkachin who kept sleeping while his owner enjoyed himself. The Russian skater followed Yuuri with his eyes. The blood rushed to his face as Yuuri held out his hands. “Come on. I’m tired of waiting.”

Victor followed closely in his footsteps. They crossed the hallway quietly, holding each other’s hands in a tight grip.

Yuuri stopped in the doorway to his room with a mischievous smirk on his lips. “On second thought, I just remembered that my room was soundproofed several years ago. Where would be the fun in any of this, if half the house didn’t hear you scream my name?”

Victor’s face turned redder.

Yuuri stepped up to him. “Let’s go back to your room,” he whispered.

“I… uh… I’d rather stay in yours,” Victor whispered back.

Yuuri pulled him into his room. He closed the door with the words, “They’ll figure it out when you walk out of my room in the morning, anyway.”

He watched Victor pull his clothes off hurriedly and laughed, “You really are eager, Snowflake! Maybe you’re not as innocent as I thought!” He leaned towards Victor, “How will you surprise me next? Should I be worried,” his lips were next to Victor’s ear as he added, “or excited?” Yuuri’s hands were around Victor’s wrists and then they travelled up his arms. “My dear Coach,” he said, his tone full of sarcasm, “I can’t understand Eros at all. Can you,” he paused, “help me?”

Maybe it was something about the way he whispered the last two words, or perhaps it was because Yuuri shifted forward as he spoke so that his stomach touched Victor’s, but, whatever the reason, Victor’s reaction was the one that Yuuri forgot to account for.

Victor fainted.

_Oh damn!_ Yuuri caught him. _Damn! Damn! Damn! I knew this would happen eventually! I just knew it!_

He lay Victor carefully on his bed and covered him with his blanket. _God freaking damn it!_ He lay down next to Victor, forgetting he was still half dressed, and rolled his eyes. _Looks like my coach decided that sleep is more important for me than sex. Mother Victor strikes again!_

 

When Yuuri awoke in the morning, Victor’s stomach was pressed against his back, his face was buried in Yuuri’s hair and his arms were wrapped around Yuuri.

“Did you win the gold medal in spooning?” were the first words out of Yuuri’s mouth before he was even fully awake.

“What?”

“Oh no, I forgot: you won the gold medal in fainting. Turns out fainting is an Olympic sport now.” Yuuri turned around and sat up.

“Yuuri, I’m so sorry.”

“Apology not accepted,” he leaned over Victor’s face and whispered, “I demand a rain check.”

“A what?”

“A rain check,” Yuuri repeated, “because we cancelled the main event, it will be rescheduled to a later date.”

“Later?”

Yuuri laughed and got up from the bed.

 

They had a family breakfast – one of the many things in a long list of things Yuuri Katsuki despised. Victor ate, oblivious to the way the rest of them were staring at both him and Yuuri.

_You slept in the same room_ , their looks all seemed to say.

_I guess they want an explanation,_ Yuuri thought and suppressed a smile. “Victor kept me up all night,” he said, breaking the question-filled silence.

Victor choked on his food, turning bright red and Yuuri hit him on his back to help dislodge the food that got caught in his throat.

“It turns out that the five-time champion is afraid of the dark,” Yuuri went on relentlessly, “so I had to hold his hand and promise to protect him from the monsters.”

The five-time champion gave him a shocked look. Yuuri smirked in return. _Would you like me to tell them the truth? Not that it was that different._

Victor blushed and pretended to be interested in his food.

“Where will you stay in Russia?” his mother asked innocently.

“I haven’t thought about it,” Yuuri lied. “I suppose I could always rent an apartment.”

“But, Yuuri! You promised you’d stay with me!” Victor blurted out and then went even redder as everyone turned to look at him.

It was a conversation they’d had during the long flight back to Hasetsu when Victor had been bolder than Yuuri expected.

 

_“Yuuri,” he said, as his pupil tried to use his shoulder as a pillow, “will you come to Russia with me?”_

_Yuuri shifted closer. “Are you sure you want that?”_

_“But I’m still your coach and I’m –”_

_Yuuri slid a hand up Victor’s arm. The man who sat on his other side muttered something about young people these days._

_Yuuri slipped his hand into the front pocket of Victor’s jacket, right next to his heart, and whispered, “You want to live together with me?”_

_Victor blushed and nodded._

_Yuuri shifted even closer and whispered into Victor’s ear, “Do you want to show off your new boyfriend to all your friends?”_

_Victor lowered his eyes. Yuuri’s hands were looking for more pockets to slip into. Beside them the man grumbled louder._

_Yuuri pulled away and turned around. “Listen, you bastard,” he said in a quiet, but threatening tone of voice, “if you don’t let me flirt with my boyfriend in peace and quiet I will wring your neck. Got that? Now sit still like the good boy you aren’t and think about the unlucky woman who is your wife!”_

_He turned around to face Victor, his face twisted with disgust. “I don’t want to look at him again. I’d much rather stare at your beautiful face, Snowflake.”_

 

Victor trembled under the full force of the Katsuki family stare. Yuuri waited to see what he would say next. Victor lowered his eyes and returned to his food, but since he’d already finished his breakfast that didn’t offer much comfort. The family then turned and looked at Yuuri.

Yuuri stood up. “I need to pack more things,” he said. “I want you to help me.”

Grateful for this distraction, Victor followed Yuuri out of the room.

 

The flight to St. Petersburg was long and Yuuri slept the whole time, not even waking up for food. Victor didn’t dare interrupt his sleep. A taxi took them from the airport to Victor’s apartment. Yuuri stared out the window the whole ride, his arms crossed over his chest. They carried their stuff up the stairs (since the elevator wasn’t working) with Makkachin at their heels.

Yuuri watched Victor struggle with the key in the lock, his face suddenly turning red. _What the hell’s the matter with you?_

“Do you –”

The lock clicked and Victor swung the door open. Makkachin bounded past him into the apartment.

Yuuri didn’t bother picking the suitcases up from the floor or waiting for Victor to take his. He pushed Victor into his apartment and against the first wall available, gripping his coat near his stomach and kissing him. Victor raised his hands and dropped his keys.

They tinkled as they hit the floor.

“Yuuri…” Victor whispered.

_I can see how much you want this,_ Yuuri thought. _You’re practically weak at the knees._ “You’re mine,” he said, pushing one leg between both of Victor’s, “ _mine_.”

“Yes…”

Several kisses later Yuuri pulled away. “Luggage or…?”

Victor stood against the wall, one hand on his head as if it was spinning. “Luggage… um… right… uh…” He had a lost look on his face.

Yuuri smiled and went to fetch the suitcases they’d left in the stairwell.

After a while Victor picked up the keys and remembered to lock the door.

“I want my own set of keys,” Yuuri said and watched Victor blush. _You have some odd ideas, Snowflake._ “Come on, I want dinner.”

“B-but, Yuuri, it’s only lunchtime!” He saw the look on Yuuri’s face and went redder.

Yuuri removed his shoes and stepped into the living room. “Nice!” he said, walked over to the couch and dropped onto it. He caught Victor’s eye and patted the space beside him.

Victor claimed the offered space. Yuuri climbed onto his lap and took his face with his hands.

“I’m cashing in that rain check,” he whispered. “What do you want, Victor?” he asked in a voice that suggested the answer.

“I… uh… Yuuri, uh…”

Yuuri shifted closer and whispered, “I am more than happy to deliver.”

Victor reclined on the sofa and Yuuri leaned over him.

_If your fans could see their figure skating legend now! Surrendering and begging for more._

He made a thorough study of Victor country with his lips leading the expedition over the terrain, assisted by his hands. It wasn’t the first expedition by any means, but it was certainly as exciting as the first one had been. He tossed aside various articles of clothing as they got in his way. The shirt was allowed to stay once Yuuri undid all of the buttons.

“Yuuri…” Victor gasped for breath. “Yuuri…” His hands rested on the couch, on either side of his head, much to Yuuri’s frustration.

“Snowflake…” He raised his head and looked into Victor’s face.

Victor covered his eyes with his hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“Y-your face…” Victor whispered.

Yuuri smiled and got up. He was still dressed. “Well, will you show me the rest of the place? Or should I just explore it on my own?” He walked over to the window and gazed outside.

Victor joined Yuuri at the window, embracing him from behind. “I… uh…”

Yuuri waited patiently.

“I’d like to show you the bedroom first.”

“I knew you could get all the words out eventually.”

 

Victor woke up and stared at the ceiling in his room. _What a wonderful dream!_ He put his hands over his face. _It was all just a dream! Of course it was! How could I ever find the courage to go and actually see him?_ He felt tears pour down his face. The feeling of happiness was so strong, so _real_. _I have to go. I have to find him and offer to be his coach. But what if he turns me down? I barely have enough courage to go over there. How can I find enough courage to insist he accept me?_

His heart pounded in his chest. They kept telling him it was just a silly crush, but he knew it was more than that. It was love. It had to be. If this wasn’t love, then what was?

_Oh, what a cruel dream! I feel like my heart might burst!_

He heard a groan and turned his head.

“Good morning,” Yuuri muttered, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “What the hell are you crying about?”

“Yuuri!” Victor embraced him.

“Did you have a nightmare, or something?” Yuuri asked. “It’s just a bad dream, honestly. You’re not six years old!”

“You’re really here!” Victor exclaimed.

“Am I? I thought I was in Barcelona.”

Victor struggled to explain what he meant. He needed to make Yuuri understand. “When I woke up I thought… I thought it was all a dream. I thought I never went to be your coach, that I never left St. Petersburg.” More tears poured down his cheeks at this awful thought.

Yuuri pulled away and looked into Victor’s face. “Why don’t I prove you wrong?” Yuuri ducked under the blanket towards Victor, making him exclaim in surprise.

He felt Yuuri grip his hips and gasped. The way Yuuri made use of his mouth made Victor blush. His heart beat faster and he found it was hard to breathe.

“I love you,” he gasped. No matter how many times he said it, he still needed Yuuri to know, to _understand_. His feelings hadn’t changed, would never change.

When he’d left for Hasetsu he dared not hope he would bring Yuuri back with him. He dared not hope Yuuri would return his feelings, or that he would return them with such passion.

_And now I get to wake up next to you in my apartment every morning. Take me, Yuuri. You can have everything you want. I don’t care, if we die today or tomorrow: I’ve tasted happiness._

Yuuri meanwhile was tasting Victor Nikiforov. He finished and stuck his head out of the blanket near Victor’s head. “Snowflake.”

“Yurochka…”

Yuuri was dishevelled and his face was flushed. There was a sparkle in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something and Victor put his fingers against it. He tossed the blanket aside.

“Take me again,” he said and turned over onto his stomach.

 

They had a place all to themselves now. At first Yuuri was skeptical about the idea, but he’d seen the look on Victor’s face when he’d asked about it on their flight to Hasetsu, so he kept his thoughts to himself.

It was hard keeping their hands off each other for very long, that was certain. They went out for walks and brought Makkachin along. They didn’t say much during those walks. Victor would show Yuuri his city and Yuuri would take it all in without comment.

He noticed that Victor watched for his reaction. For some reason, it was important to him that Yuuri liked St. Petersburg. Had Yuuri been an architect, he would’ve studied St. Petersburg inside out. Had he been an artist, he would’ve painted it. Had he been a poet, he would’ve dedicated sonnets to it. But he was Yuuri Katsuki, so after a particularly active evening he snuck off while Victor slept to say hello to the leader of the underworld. This time he didn’t get into any fights. He brought payment.

 

“We caught a trespasser, sir,” a thug announced, leading Yuuri in at gunpoint. He’d already made a thorough search of Yuuri for weapons. “Tell the Boss what you want.”

“Your boss knows me, you bastard!”

The man knocked his legs out from under him so that Yuuri collapsed on his knees. “Come here to beg, have you, you little runt?”

Yuuri raised his head and looked at Mila, lounging on a deep red sofa and sipping from a glass that probably had champagne, but might have had whiskey (he was never sure what she drank), but, whichever it was, definitely also had ice cubes.

“What have we here?” she asked.

“It’s me,” he said. “I’m here to make you an offer.”

“An offer?”

“Yes. I want your protection for someone and in exchange…” He hesitated and drew a breath, “…in exchange I’m willing to pay.”

She laughed. The thugs around her joined in the laughter obediently.

“And what makes you think I hand out protection to anyone at all?”

He bit back the first and second responses that sprang to his mind. “Will you accept my offer?”

She lowered the glass and sat up straighter. “Who is it?”

He drew a breath. It was then or never. “Victor Nikiforov.”

The thugs murmured among themselves.

She was silent, as if considering his request.

_Damn it, Mila! He’s your teammate! Don’t you want him to stay safe?_ He waited patiently, keeping his face as expressionless as possible.

“How much is his life worth to you?”

He knew the correct response was to name a price in any currency, but he blurted out the answer without thinking, “Everything.”

She got up from the sofa and walked up to him. There was a smile on her face and she slid a finger over the side of his face. “Then that is what I will take.”

“Damn you,” he whispered.

“Language, Yuuri Katsuki, your life is mine now.” She leaned down and whispered into his ear, “And, lucky for you, I won’t demand anything unreasonable. Only your unwavering loyalty. Surely, you can give me that much?”

He lowered his eyes. “Yes.”

“And in exchange I will throw your security into the deal. Isn’t that a nice bargain?” She slid a finger over his forehead. “And if you betray me, I will take the lives of your family and friends as well.”

 

It was still dark when Yuuri returned to Victor’s side, stripped off his clothes and lay down beside him.

_I may have just made the biggest mistake in my life, but… ah hell!_ He closed his eyes and slid his hand over Victor’s heart. _I’m yours, irrevocably and undeniably yours._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The “it was all a dream” thing always gets on my nerves, but I did like that joke going around that the show would end with the plot twist that it was all a self-insert fic written by Victor about five-time champion Yuuri Katsuki.


	23. Honey, I’m Home!

In movies and books whenever someone wants information they go to a bar, or pub, or a local equivalent and ask one of the locals. In real life this didn’t always work, which was just as well, since Otabek rarely watched movies and rarely went to bars. He dj’ed as a hobby in clubs, but that was different. Getting information out of someone in a club was next to impossible: you spent most of the time repeating yourself and shouting “what”, or simply taking part in one of the other activities available.

When Otabek wanted information he went deep into the underground and talked to people he knew, who then talked to people _they_ knew until at some point, presumably, the person with the information was found.

And, of course, there were modern, faster methods, like the Internet.

Otabek and Phichit met up and set off for what was _not_ a friendly chat over tea and dessert with a man who they hoped would know what they wanted.

They caught him in the dead of night (and he prepared himself to be dead that night) and talked.

The man was tied to a chair in the corner. Phichit and Otabek sat at a table next to him as if they were two friends meeting at a café.

Phichit told Otabek the opium story in the most innocent tone of voice imaginable.

“There was a man who had this odd idea to put pole dancers into his opium den. Don’t ask me how he got that one. I blame the opium, personally. And someone paid Yuuri and myself to get rid of him. The man was slippery as a snake, so we had no way of catching him until Yuuri had the brilliant idea of infiltrating the place by pretending to be a pole dancer.” Phichit laughed.

Otabek’s face remained impassive.

“He actually went off and learned how to pole dance! And then he was hired by this place. Turns out, they’re very picky. As if drugged people can tell the difference between good and bad pole dancing!” Phichit sat back in his chair. “I got in the obvious way: as a pretend customer and we turned the place inside out. There was a man who kept making eyes at Yuuri, so he gouged them out. It annoyed him, he said. We went through all the staff before we got the boss.”

Phichit paused.

“Course we burned it all to the ground in the end, anyway.”

Otabek nodded. It could’ve been a nod of approval and it could’ve been a nod of understanding.

“I still can’t believe Yuuri took the time to learn pole dancing for this job, though! And they paid him for it!” Phichit listed off what they did to each member of the staff. It ranged from cutting off their toes to –

“Alright, alright, I’ll talk,” the tied up man said. “I’ll tell you what you want!”

Phichit and Otabek ignored him and continued their conversation.

“Are you deaf? I said I’ll talk! What do you want to know?”

“Can someone walk without their toes?” Otabek asked.

“What?” the man exclaimed.

“We tested that. Turns out you can’t,” Phichit said.

The conversation went on for another two hours before they left the man all alone.

Two days passed during which Phichit and Otabek would return to sit next to the man and talk to each other, ignoring him completely.

On the third day he broke down and told them everything he knew (including the information he blackmailed his neighbour with), but he didn’t have the information they wanted. He didn’t know who wanted Yuuri dead.

Phichit waved his hand dismissively as soon as that became obvious. “Get him out of my sight.”

Otabek gave him an impassive look. “You do it.”

Phichit stared at him for several seconds before pulling out his gun and shooting their prisoner.

“Back to square one,” he said.

Otabek said nothing. He stared down at the corpse and thought. The fact that this man didn’t know anything eliminated several other suspects from his list. He looked at Phichit and wondered, not for the first time, how someone chatty and cheery like him ended up in a gang and then dismissed the thought.

He wasn’t one to judge. He’d been a police detective once.

 

Yuuri was never the sort of person to barge in, declaring: “honey, I’m home”. Victor, on the other hand, was exactly the sort who would, but he only ever tried it once and never dared to do it again.

“Honey, I’m home!” Victor exclaimed, barging into the living room where Yuuri sat on the couch and watched TV with a bored look on his face.

Yuuri got up, went into the kitchen and returned with a jar of honey. “You hear that? Victor is home.”

“I-I meant you,” Victor said, blushing.

“Really?” Yuuri pretended to be confused. “Why?”

“U-um… it’s meant as a...” Victor stumbled over his words and stopped, unable to continue.

Yuuri gave the jar of honey a suspicious look. “Is there something about honey I should know about?”

Victor opened his mouth and then closed it, trying to form some sort of a reply, but completely unable to find it.

“Oh! I completely forgot!” Yuuri hit his head with his hand. “I was supposed to cover myself in honey and wait for you, wasn’t I?” There was just the hint of sarcasm in his voice. He smirked at Victor and waited for his reaction.

Victor’s face turned even redder.

Knowing what was about to happen, Yuuri stepped forward and held out his arms to catch Victor as he fainted.

_Domestic bliss doesn’t agree with either of us, does it, Snowflake?_

 

It was already dark when Victor stepped outside, finally finished with practice for the day. He and Yuuri had decided to practice separately at least until the Russian Nationals were over. Unfortunately, this meant that they went to different parts of the city for practice. He was tired and was doing his best not to think of the long and lonely commute home.

“You going my way, pretty boy?”

Yuuri stood against his motorbike in his usual leather jacket and gloves, arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his lips.

Victor felt his heart race and he willed himself to remain cool and calm.

“Always,” he said and leapt into a hug. So much for cool and calm…

“Is this all the thanks I get?” Yuuri whispered into Victor’s ear.

“I love you,” Victor said and planted a kiss on Yuuri’s cheek.

Somewhere behind him, he knew, the other skaters were leaving the ice rink. They’d see them together and he didn’t care. _Let them see. Let them judge me all they like._ He’d heard what they said behind his back and some of it straight to his face. They all seemed to think that Yuuri wasn’t good enough for him.

“I’m going to need more than that,” Yuuri told him.

“I love you to the Moon and back,” Victor said, cupping Yuuri’s cheek with his hand.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“A lot.”

“Get on the bike before I change my mind.”

“You’re giving me a ride home?” This was still a rare honour despite the fact that they now lived together.

“Yes and then I’ll ride _you_ when we get home.” He smirked at the euphemism.

Victor felt the blood rush to his cheeks. “Lunch first.”

“Fine by me.”

They climbed onto the bike and sped off. It was a warm day (which is to say it was a warm day for St. Petersburg in December) and Yuuri took the scenic route past various famous buildings and along the Neva River. The wind picked up, threatening to carry Victor off, but he clung on to Yuuri. He turned into a couple of smaller streets and then their apartment building loomed up ahead.

As always, the ride felt too short and Victor climbed off, trying to supress the feeling of disappointment.

He watched Yuuri fuss over his bike.

Suddenly Yuuri grabbed him and pulled him to the ground. A bullet flew overhead, followed by another. Yuuri swore and muttered something about promised protection.

“Don’t move,” Yuuri whispered into his ear and Victor did his best not to think about the fact that Yuuri was lying right on top of him. Yuuri sprung up and, using the bike as cover, fired several shots.

The firing ceased and Yuuri smirked. “Amateurs.”

Victor sat up.

“This is exactly why I should find another coach,” Yuuri said, rising to his feet. “They’ll kill us one day. One bullet and we’re both dead.” He pulled Victor to his feet. “Don’t make that face. There’s nothing romantic about dying.”

“I love you, Yuuri.”

“Yeah, so you keep saying. And you never stop, for some reason. Why don’t you? And what do you see in me, anyway?”

_You still don’t understand, do you?_ “I love everything about you. Your anger at the world and how you radiate it all the time. The way you dress and how you smile. It’s not the same smile as everyone else’s and it’s not quite a smirk either.” _And each time I see it, my heart skips a beat._ “And that feeling of danger when I’m with you.”

“You need to have your head examined,” Yuuri told him. “Living in constant fear for your life isn’t a good thing.”

“No, but before I became your coach life was so regular and boring. I followed a schedule and it was mostly practice anyway. Nothing ever happened to me. It was all so meaningless. Even winning wasn’t much fun. But now…” Victor smiled. “I feel like I’m living life to the fullest. Any moment can be my last, so I want to make the most of it. I want to enjoy it. Everything!”

“Let’s go up.”

Victor followed Yuuri into the building. He felt a kind of thrill watching Yuuri open the door to what had been for many years only his apartment with his own key. Yuuri walked into the living room, pulled off his jacket and tossed it onto the couch before dropping down next to it.

“Come here,” Yuuri beckoned Victor to him.

“I’ll make lunch first,” Victor told him and retreated into the corridor to lock the front door and hide his face.

“You don’t have to make me lunch.”

“But I want to,” Victor insisted.

“Whatever.”

Victor hung up his coat and then retrieved Yuuri’s to hang it up as well and went to the kitchen.

All this time he’d lived alone and now Yuuri was there in his living room, waiting impatiently for him. He tried not to think about how the skater looked leaning against his motorbike. Somehow he’d managed to win the attention of the handsomest man on Earth.

“There’s still some borsht left over from yesterday,” he called.

“Sure.”

He set the kitchen table as Yuuri came in and claimed a seat. The thought that it was just the two of them in his small kitchen was enough to make Victor happy.

“I’m still not sure this is a good idea,” he said quietly.

“What do you mean?” He knew exactly what Yuuri meant, but had nothing else to say.

“All this coaching and living together business.”

Victor set the bowl of soup in front of him. “I’m sure you’ll sort it out.”

“I keep thinking that and the bastards keep coming. Where the hell are they coming from?” Yuuri picked up the spoon and waved it as he spoke.

Victor brushed his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. “Your hair is longer.”

“I need a haircut.”

“I like it longer.”

“Don’t change the subject!” Yuuri snapped. “It’s your life I’m talking about.”

_And worrying about. When you stop worrying that’s when it will be my turn._ “I have faith in your decision.” _As long as it doesn’t include leaving me._

Yuuri put his arms around Victor. “You’re not going to ask me to give it up?”

“What?”

“The fights and the gangs,” Yuuri explained, pulling Victor closer.

“You told me you couldn’t.”

“Damn right! But aren’t you going to ask?”

“No.” He kissed Yuuri’s forehead. “I have faith in you.”

Yuuri raised his head and caught Victor’s lips with his own. His hands held Victor in place, but Victor wouldn’t have pulled away for the world.

Yuuri broke the kiss and took Victor’s face in his hands. “Let’s forget lunch,” he said quietly.

“But I’m hungry, Yuuri! And don’t smirk like that. You know what I mean!”

“Fine.”

 

They finished lunch and Victor, much to Yuuri’s frustration, went to do the dishes. Yuuri wondered if Victor was hesitating for some reason. Yuuri stepped up behind him and wrapped his arms around Victor’s waist.

Victor finished and dried his hands. He bent his knees slightly so that Yuuri could put his head over his shoulder.

“You’re too tall…” Yuuri grumbled into his ear. He ran his hands upwards until they reached Victor’s chest. “Bedroom…” he whispered, burying his nose in Victor’s neck.

Victor reclined his head. “Yuuri…” he whispered.

“Come on, Snowflake.”

“…I love you.”

_Here we go again. You’re starting to sound like a broken record._ He unzipped Victor’s pants and lowered them far enough for gravity to do the rest.

The rest of Victor’s clothes joined his pants on the kitchen floor not long after that.

“I love you,” Victor repeated, kissing Yuuri and pulling him towards the bedroom at the same time. He dropped onto the bed dragging Yuuri after him.

“Do you eat sweets all the time now?” Yuuri asked between kisses. “Because you taste like sugar.”

Victor didn’t answer.

Yuuri released him and sat up. “It might be a good idea for me to get undressed now too, what do you think?”

Victor’s face was bright red as he whispered, “Can I wear your leather coat?”

“You mean the one you hung up in the corridor?”

“Yes.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.” Victor nodded.

“Are you afraid of catching a cold, or something?” Yuuri asked, mystified.

“No, I just want to wear your coat when you make love to me.”

Yuuri gave him an odd look.

“And,” Victor’s face turned redder, “can you wear your leather gloves?”

“You have a serious leather…” Yuuri paused, searching for the right word, “kink.”

“It shouldn’t surprise you.”

“Yeah, but…” _But it’s one thing when it’s just my skating outfit for the Eros routine and another thing right now._ “I’ll be right back.”

When he returned he was wearing only the gloves and holding the jacket out to Victor. Victor sat up and pulled it on. Yuuri sat down on the bed next to him.

“Well? What do you want me to do first?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Victor ran his fingers over Yuuri’s cheek. “As long as you don’t leave me it doesn’t matter.”

_Goddammit! He’s crying again! What the hell?_

“They’ll have to pry your body out of my cold dead fingers,” he promised, wrapping his arms around Victor, “and I’ll shoot anyone that tries.”

Victor closed his eyes and sighed in relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "You going my way, pretty boy" scene is probably mostly responsible for me writing this whole fic.  
> Also, even though I really, really shouldn’t commit to more stories, I am about halfway through writing one of the crossovers between this and The Devil Wears Gucci (my other ongoing fic). And if you’re wondering “why shouldn’t you commit to more stories?” I made a post on Tumblr about the ideas I have lined up, which you can find [here](http://witharthurkirkland.tumblr.com/post/161683321493/people-seem-to-find-it-strange-that-i-dont-read-a). And, yes, you can still vote for which of the ideas you want to see me write next.


	24. He Has the Eyes of a Fox

Yuuri listened to Victor’s instructions as he drove them both on his motorcycle past all of the people rushing to celebrate the coming of the New Year. The roads were full of cars and several times Yuuri dodged around them by going on the sidewalk and startling pedestrians. It was just his luck that there was no snow on the ground. Victor’s voice shook slightly as he explained how to get to his aunt’s house.

_What the hell are you so nervous about?_ Yuuri wondered, turning into a pathway between two buildings. He found a good spot in front of one of them and parked.

Victor got off and removed his helmet. He fidgeted, waiting for Yuuri.

It was starting to irritate Yuuri. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing!”

“Are you worried she won’t like me, or something?”

“A little,” Victor admitted.

Yuuri took Victor’s helmet out of his hand. “Well don’t. You can’t do anything about it, can you? Did you bring everything?”

Victor checked the backpack they’d brought along and nodded. It had amused Yuuri to learn that there was a custom in Russia that guests always had to bring something and he’d forced himself to bite down all the suggestions that sprung to his mind.

“What’s your aunt like, anyway?”

“She’s always looking out for me,” Victor said. “She says she’s worried about me.”

“If I were your aunt, I’d worry too,” Yuuri told him.

As they went up the stairs he had a brief mental image of an old lady sitting in a chair, knitting a sweater and asking annoying questions. Oh well, he’d promised Victor he would be on his best behaviour. Apparently, there was also something about New Year’s Eve that was special to Victor. He wasn’t sure if this was a cultural thing or not.

Victor rang the doorbell and smiled nervously at Yuuri.

“Vitya!” someone exclaimed and opened the door. An elderly lady barged out and captured Victor in an embrace. He bent down and she kissed him on the cheek several times, holding his face tightly in her hands. That finished she turned around and gave Yuuri a critical look.

Yuuri opened his mouth to greet her when she raised her hand and gave him a big smack on the arm right above the elbow (that being the highest she could reach).

“What?”

The lady then exclaimed loudly and angrily in Russian. Yuuri looked at Victor for a translation. Victor said something to her.

“She wants to know if you’re going to make me cry,” he finally translated.

“Tell her you’re a big cry baby anyway,” Yuuri said with a shrug.

Victor tried to protest against this and then gave in and translated. His aunt nodded in agreement.

She looked Yuuri straight in the eye and asked something that made Victor freeze in shock.

“What is it now? Does she want to know if we –”

“She wants to know how many people you’ve killed.”

The aunt was giving him a piercing stare as if to say that nothing escaped her attention. Yuuri returned the stare and gave another shrug.

The aunt’s expression didn’t change as she said something else.

“Now what?”

“She wants to know where I found such a handsome devil.”

Yuuri leaned against the wall as nonchalantly as possible. “I like your aunt.” Then he greeted her in Russian like Victor had taught him, introducing himself by name and adding a small wave.

The aunt gave his words some consideration and then graciously allowed Yuuri to call her Tietya Liuda (or Aunt Liuda) and the skaters were permitted to enter at last.

Victor presented her with the chocolates and cake they’d bought and she tutted, shaking her head. Yuuri dropped onto the couch in the living room and watched the TV absent-mindedly. He pretended not to notice how Aunt Liuda made Victor run back and forth to set the table or how she whispered something into Victor’s ear that made him blush and then give a nod.

_Well, there’s that question_.

She gave him a look of utter disbelief and then turned to look at Yuuri and made a gesture that suggested that maybe she just believed Victor.

After a while Victor sat down next to Yuuri. “I don’t think she believes me,” Victor said quietly.

“What? Does she really think I’d go out with you without ever sleeping with you?”

Victor’s face was red yet again. “N-no, she doesn’t believe that you’re a skater.”

Yuuri reclined on the couch. “Whatever.” He watched Victor fidget nervously. “What are you worried about now?”

“You’re not offended, are you?” Victor asked.

“About what?”

“That she hit you.”

Yuuri waited for Victor’s aunt to go back to the kitchen before catching Victor in a kiss. Victor pulled away quickly. Yuuri’s hands stayed on Victor’s waist.

“That’s not an answer,” Victor mumbled.

“If I got offended every time someone hit me,” Yuuri said, sliding his hands around Victor’s waist and debating if he should stick his hands under Victor’s shirt. “I would be offended all the time.”

Victor looked into Yuuri’s face.

“I’m not,” Yuuri said at last. “Now is this handsome devil going to get a kiss or not?”

Victor leaned forward and his aunt cleared her throat loudly. He jumped back, blushed and ran into the kitchen. Aunt Liuda made a warning gesture at Yuuri.

“Whatever.” He leaned back on the couch with a satisfied smile.

_The only thing I still have trouble believing is that you’re a five-time world champion._

Victor finished setting the table and called Yuuri over to sit down. The aunt then sent Yuuri off to wash his hands. Yuuri laughed as he headed towards the bathroom. Victor dashed after him.

“You have a great aunt.”

“Y-you really think so?”

“Yes.” He leaned towards Victor and heard Aunt Liuda clear her throat again. Yuuri grabbed Victor before he could leave and kissed him anyway.

As the evening progressed Yuuri managed to find a way to communicate with the aunt, despite the language barrier. He topped up her glass with champagne and listened to her stories about Victor’s childhood, complete with explanatory gestures. She’d long ago told Victor to stop translating. At 1 in the morning she retired to her room, waving an arm as if to say “you young people do what you like”.

Yuuri sat on the couch with Victor snuggled up against him, their arms wrapped around each other. Victor’s head was resting on his shoulder. Victor was a little tipsy, and Yuuri was still sober and debating whether he wanted to be drunk or not.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” Victor suggested and giggled.

Yuuri reached over Victor’s shoulder for the remote and turned the TV off. The room went completely silent. Someone outside was playing with fireworks and screaming happily. They’d turned the light off several hours ago, feeling as if the TV was making it bright enough in the room. Now they sat in the dark.

“Last year,” Victor whispered, “on New Year’s Eve I sat right here on this couch. I felt so lonely. As the clock struck twelve I made a wish that I would celebrate my next New Year’s with you.”

Yuuri picked Victor up and carried him into the bedroom over his shoulder.

 

When Victor woke up in the morning it was from the sound of Yuuri’s laughter. He looked around and found that the space beside him was empty. Worried about what he would find, he pulled his clothes on and went to the kitchen where his aunt was telling Yuuri about her husband while Yuuri washed the dishes.

Victor stared in surprise.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty!” Yuuri greeted him. “Breakfast is on the table.”

“Y-you made me breakfast?”

“Consider it a New Year’s present.” Yuuri dried his hands and grinned at Aunt Liuda. “Don’t worry, it’s not poisonous.”

The aunt elbowed him and Victor wondered if she understood what Yuuri had said.

Yuuri said something and it took Victor a while to decipher what it was. Ты руки помыл? _Did you wash your hands?_ He was already learning Russian!

Victor felt all the blood rush to his face.

Ему это нравится, he said to Victor’s aunt. _He likes it._

The aunt nodded emphatically and laughed.

_What’s going on?_ Victor looked between them in surprise, too shocked to ask the question aloud.

“Aunt Liuda taught me Russian while you slept.”

“R-really?”

“Yes and in exchange I went and had a word with her annoying neighbour. He really is a piece of work.” Victor stared down at Yuuri’s hands, looking for bruises. “We talked civilly and I like to think that we understood each other quite well.”

“But he doesn’t… at least I don’t think…”

“It’s just a case of knowing a couple of the right words and gestures, really…” Yuuri had a smirk on his face again, “…Vitya.”

Victor felt the blood rush back to his face. He lowered his eyes and tried to focus on the conversation. “I-I asked him many times, I really did! And he’s always shouting at everyone, and drilling holes in the wall, and…”

“It was funny when he threatened to call the police,” Yuuri snorted.

“And he’s really big!” Victor added, feeling that this point was very important.

“Probably three times my weight,” Yuuri agreed.

“And he promised not to bother Aunt Liuda ever again?”

“He did. Eventually.”

Victor stared at Yuuri and then at his aunt, wondering if this was some kind of practical joke.

“Alright. Eat your breakfast and let’s go home.”

_Home!_ Victor’s heart leapt. _Yuuri called it home!_

When Victor finished eating, Yuuri went to make sure they had everything and Aunt Liuda dragged him into the kitchen by his ear.

“I don’t know what kind of life you’re living, Vitya,” she said quietly, even though she was speaking Russian, “but be careful. You’re the only family I have left. I don’t want to lose you too.” She hugged him tightly. “Don’t trust him,” she said into his ear. “He has the eyes of a fox. He will eat you up and leave nothing for me, not even a skeleton.”

“But he protects me from everyone, Aunt Liuda!”

“Can he protect you from himself?” She released him and looked into Victor’s face. “We’ve had trouble from his kind before and look what it cost us.”

“What?” Victor whispered. “You told me…”

She sighed. “I didn’t want to tell you the truth. Your father got on the wrong side of them once. I was hoping that with your innocence that would be the end of it, but we seem to be cursed to always run into them.” She shook her head. “For some reason, I can’t make myself hate him. Maybe he’s not all that bad, but you have to understand, Vitya, when these people get into a mess, everyone around them suffers. And when he gets into a mess you will be the first to go.”

_I know._ He didn’t say it, but she saw it in his face.

“What happened?”

“It’s fine, auntie, really.”

She gave him a suspicious look. “Yeah right. Fine, you don’t want to tell me, I can see that. But I will be watching all of your competitions carefully from now on and if I get suspicious of anything I will walk over there on my old feet and skin him alive.”

Yuuri walked in as she said this and she gave him a dirty look. Then she must have decided that it wasn’t enough, because she marched up to him and gave him a hard smack on the arm.

“If anything happens to Victor, I will hold you personally responsible.”

Victor didn’t need to translate. Yuuri nodded to show he understood.

“He may be an idiot with a pretty face, but he’s more than that, understand?” the aunt demanded and Yuuri nodded again. Her gestures had been more than enough to convey her meaning.

“Auntie!” Victor protested.

“He’s my idiot nephew. He’s the only family I have left!” There were tears on her face now. “Curse you and your kind!” she said. “You took away my husband, my parents, my brother and his wife. Isn’t it enough for you?”

They left in silence. When they got back to the bike Yuuri handed Victor his helmet with the words, “I didn’t know.”

“Neither did I,” Victor admitted, holding the helmet in his outstretched arms.

Yuuri pulled Victor’s face down to his and kissed him.

“Don’t worry about me,” Victor whispered, pulling away. “Every second with you is worth it. Last night is worth everything to me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I want a really long ride,” Victor said and put his helmet on.

“Only if I get a ride too,” Yuuri promised, determined to have the last word.

 

Meanwhile in a location unspecified by the author, but with suitably dramatic lighting, that is to say: with the lights dimmed so that the speakers could just make out the outlines of each other’s faces (and have a hard time walking around the room without bumping into anything), Phichit met up with Mila to report on the progress of his investigation. He felt a strong temptation to make some graphs and regretted having nothing to plot. As it was, he delivered it all while standing in front of her, feeling like a student at school.

“Otabek couldn’t come with me, for some reason,” he added at the end.

Mila smiled and waved her arm dismissively. “Of course not: he’s in St. Petersburg right now.”

“And what is he doing there?”

She laughed. “Getting ready to watch the Russian Nationals, I expect. Which reminds me, I have a flight in 3 hours.” She stood up. “Let me know if you learn anything new.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Domestic scenes wouldn't be complete without some relative or other showing up, right?  
> Also: I've been updating every other day (sort of) and I'm wondering if that's too frequent, or not frequent enough, or just right, or what?  
> And just in case you missed it, I wrote a crossover fic between this one and The Devil Wears Gucci. If you want more sarcastic Yuuri, you might enjoy it (and you don't need to know my other fic at all to understand it). Anyway, it's called Interview Me and you can read it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11248713).


	25. He’s in Over his Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to make it work better with the plot, I moved some of the competitions around. I'm really sorry if this bothers you.

It was the morning of the Russian Nationals. Victor paced back and forth outside the venue, ignoring the stares he got. Practice was in 30 minutes and Yuuri was still not there. He hadn’t seen Yuuri since the previous night. When he’d woken up in the morning the space beside him was empty.

Knowing Yuuri, he was in a fight somewhere taking on more people than he should, risking his life for something stupid.

What if he didn’t come back?

What if day after day went by and he heard nothing from him? How would he know if something happened? Who would tell him? Who would bring his body home?

Victor froze on the spot, terrified out of his mind.

15 minutes.

He should be here. He had to be here.

Someone’s hand gave him a smack on the behind and he jumped up in surprise. A motorcyclist sped by, dangerously close. The biker turned around and drove back towards Victor. He stopped several steps away and removed his helmet.

Victor stared into Yuuri’s face.

“Hey there, Snowflake! Feeling lonely?” he asked, adjusting his leather gloves.

“Yes!” Victor exclaimed and turned bright red. “Ah! I… uh…”

Yuuri leaned against the bike’s handles. “You should be inside, getting ready.”

“B-but I was waiting for you!”

“And here I am. Off you go. I’m going to park my bike and then I’ll join you.”

Victor nodded and turned to go when Yuuri called out his name.

“Forgetting something?” He pointed at his cheek.

“Yuuri!” Victor rushed back to kiss him.

“Now go win gold, Snowflake.”

 

Yakov knew lectures were meaningless with Victor. He was no longer a figure of authority as far as Victor was concerned. There was only one person Victor really listened to now.

Yakov scowled.

Yuuri Katsuki.

Who gave him the right to barge in and conquer the heart of Russia’s greatest skater like he did? He always thought that Victor would find someone clingy who would be smitten with him and hang on his every word. He never expected it to be the other way around, even if he was as innocent as a child.

When Yuuri wasn’t around all Victor talked about was Yuuri. When Yuuri was there everyone else became background detail.

Yuuri was no good. A bad influence. Everyone could see that. People walking past him in the street could see that: the boy insisted on wearing leather and looking like a delinquent. Scandal followed him everywhere and he picked fights with everyone. What was Victor doing with _him_?

Apart from the obvious.

Yakov sighed. “Victor, you need to focus. Do you want to win gold or not?”

“I do,” Victor said, but his eyes were trying to find Yuuri in the crowd.

“Then keep yourself under control! You’re almost 30, for crying out loud!”

Victor looked at Yakov. “Am I getting old?”

_Oh God help me. He looks ready to cry._ “No, I –”

“Snowflake,” Yuuri barged in. There was his confident walk and that irritating smirk that Yakov hated more than everything else in the world right now.

“Yuuri!”

“You gonna skate today or just look pretty?”

“Ah!” Victor rushed out onto the ice.

“God knows you’ve got looking pretty down to an art.” Yuuri crossed his arms over his chest. He caught the way Yakov was looking at him. “Problem?”

“Yes. I don’t like the influence you have on my pupil.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” Was it Yakov’s imagination or was his tone actually _not_ hostile for once?

“I don’t know. There’s nothing I _can_ do about it. He’s in over his head.” Yakov sighed. “He’s chased you for a while now.”

Yuuri said nothing.

Yakov suddenly realized he didn’t want to be there when the two of them practiced together, but he knew he would have no choice.

Practice ended and Victor left the ice, running to Yuuri’s side and shouting his name.

Yuuri took his face in his hands and kissed him. He was taking his time deliberately as if daring Yakov to say something. It was the most inappropriate kiss Yakov had ever seen in public and it made the coach turn away in disgust. When Yuuri finally released Victor, the Russian’s face was red.

“Yuuri…”

“Win me that gold medal,” Yuuri said, licking his lips.

Victor embraced Yuuri and Yakov saw the look Yuuri gave him. _I do what I want._

_Yes, you_ do _and that’s the problem. You will get away with it too, because if I say anything to Victor he will quit. He will follow you into Hell and he will lay down his life for you, but you need to be stopped. You really need to be stopped before it’s too late._

He walked up to them. “Victor, can I talk to you?”

“What is it?” There was that innocence again that made Yakov think of small fluffy rodents. It didn’t help when he compared Yuuri to a fox.

“Just the usual pep talk. I know how much you dislike them, but I thought I’d give you one, anyway.”

“Ok.”

Yuuri released Victor. “I’m going to talk to the other Yuri.”

Yakov kept his face neutral. Yuri also worshipped at the temple of Yuuri Katsuki. Not as obsessively as Victor, but strongly and secretly (so secretly, in fact, he didn’t think anyone knew, but Yakov did: he always made sure to learn to read all of his pupils). Did Yuuri know? What would he do if he found out?

He watched Yuuri walk away.

“Victor, I want a good short program. I _expect_ a good short program from you. Try not to think about anything else.” _I know that you can’t, but I must say it anyway._ “Alright?”

Victor put his arms around his coach. “Yakov!”

“Yes, yes. Ahem,” Yakov coughed to hide his embarrassment. “Well, _are_ you ready?”

“Yes.”

 

Yuuri loved pushing Yakov’s buttons, not only because the skater irritated people purely on principle, or because he was Victor’s coach (that was certainly part of it and Yuuri was determined to set the lines down, marking his territory, so to speak, and Victor was definitely _his_ territory), or because Yakov was an annoying old man, but because he knew he’d get away with it nicely and so would Victor. Yakov couldn’t do anything. He ranted and worked himself into a fit, but he couldn’t actually _do_ anything. And Yuuri loved it. And Yakov knew it and Yuuri knew that Yakov knew it and that was even better.

He found the Russian Yuri in the hall, talking to Otabek. Again, both Otabek and Yuuri exchanged a look that said: _I know what you are, since you and I are the same._

Oh the kid _tried_ , he really did, wishing desperately he could be “one of the cool kids”, but he had a long way to go before he was not only a walking threat to the lives of everyone within a ten mile radius, but also a hardened bastard.

“Hello, Yuuri. Did the old man give you your pep talk yet?”

“Yes! Are you going to give me one too?”

Yuuri laughed. “I’m not _that_ bored. Hello, Otabek. I don’t think we’ve met.”

Otabek’s expression remained blank. He held out his hand.

Yuuri took it and gave a crushing handshake. Otabek didn’t even flinch.

_Nothing fazes him, does it?_ He looked at Yuri. His hand slipped free of the handshake and went for the kid. Otabek caught it.

Yuuri looked into Otabek’s face. _Aha!_

The Russian Yuri watched them curiously, oblivious to what was going on.

_I can take you out right now,_ Yuuri tried to convey with his eyes.

Otabek gave him an unblinking stare.

Yuuri pulled his hand free and got a coin from his pocket. He tossed it up, let it turn over a few times and snatched it out of the air.

“Heads or tails?”

“Heads,” Otabek said without stopping to think.

Yuuri nodded and opened his hand.

It was heads.

“That’s so cool! How did you do that, Beka?” _On nicknames already?_

“Luck,” he said quietly and looked at Yuri. “It’s almost your turn. We should go.”

Yuri walked away and Otabek followed, stopping next to Yuuri. “I’d be careful, if I were you,” he said.

Yuuri had a dark smile on his face. “Once a cop, always a cop.”

Otabek drew his breath in sharply.

Yuuri turned away and walked in the opposite direction, looking for another exit towards the ice rink.

 

The Russian Yuri was second last on the ice. He beat everyone else’s score, skating Agape almost as well as he’d done at the Grand Prix Final. The key word being _almost_.

He left the ice with a frustrated look on his face as the audience cheered his name. Slowly the chant went from “Yuri” to “Victor”.

The Japanese Yuuri stood with his arms crossed and his eyes on his boyfriend as he went out on the ice. He took Victor’s skating outfit in for the first time.

“Is it my turn to nosebleed now?” Yuuri asked with a smirk.

Victor’s face, rarely ever not red, was red yet again.

“Turn around.” Yuuri watched Victor spin slowly on the spot. His outfit could rival Yuuri’s in the amount of leather it was made from. “I like it. It flatters your best part. Hold on, you forgot something.” Yuuri raised his hands and pulled his gloves off with his teeth. “Hold out your hands.”

Victor held them out obediently and Yuuri pulled the gloves on.

“I look forward to pulling them off again,” he whispered, kissing the knuckles of Victor’s right hand.

“Next on the ice: Victor Nikiforov!” the commentator shouted.

“Yeah, yeah, we get the hint,” Yuuri muttered and released Victor.

Next to him Yakov was seething, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

Victor belonged out on the ice. The audience greeted him with adoration before his routine even began. He froze in his initial position and Yuuri watched the expression on his face change to a determined one.

Yuuri remembered seeing how nervous he was the night before. He hadn’t said a word about it, but Yuuri knew he felt uneasy about his return. Yuuri pretended not to notice anything and did his best to take Victor’s mind off it. He’d even risked whispering something dirty into Victor’s ear to see if embarrassment would help. Victor had been so nervous he didn’t even faint, which probably meant that he hadn’t heard a word.

Now Victor stood with a serious expression on his face about to give everyone the much-awaited return.

He lowered his head and closed his eyes.

The audience stopped chanting. _Let’s not forget the dramatic silence_. _Where would we be without it?_

A loud cacophony of drums, screams and guitar music broke out and Victor was moving at breakneck speed to the other end of the rink. The audience screamed almost as loudly as the singer.

Yuuri recognized the song. If someone had told him a year ago – hell, if someone had told him two days ago – that this would be Victor’s music for his short program, he would’ve laughed.

Yet here it was and here was a different Victor to go with it. Yuuri watched, unable to tear his eyes away. Here was a side to Victor he’d never seen before.

_So this is what he’s been keeping from me,_ Yuuri thought, watching Victor drop into a knee slide and then get up and continue at a mad speed. _He’s too naïve to skate a program like this properly, of course._

Victor jumped and went into a spin.

_It’s a bit like… He’s imitating_ me _!_ Yuuri smiled. _All this time I’ve imitated him and now he’s imitating_ me _, if that’s not funny I don’t know what is. He needs to be angrier, though. But,_ damn _, it’s attractive!_

All of Victor’s grace seemed to be gone. His movements were harsher to match the music. He even waved his arm around, as if egging the tempo on. The audience loved it.

_It’s hard to believe it’s you, Sugar Snowflake._ He leaned forward. _Damn! If you’d skated this a year ago, I would’ve been the one to show up at your door with my pants down._ He cast his mind back to the way he’d been back then. _Maybe not with my pants down._

The music ended and Victor stopped. The audience screamed in delight. The serious expression vanished and Victor broke into a big innocent grin.

_No,_ Yuuri thought, _I prefer you innocent and dependable._ He walked towards the kiss and cry. _Even if this side of you is very interesting._ He had another thought that made him smile.

 

Victor waved and bowed to the audience, as pleased by their reception as he’d been the first time he went out on the ice. For several minutes, he felt on top of the world, capable of anything. How could he have forgotten this feeling?

_Yuuri!_ he thought. _How do I thank you for this?_

Yakov greeted him with smiles and praise, but Victor wasn’t listening.

“Where is Yuuri?” was his first question to his coach before he even got off the ice.

Yakov pointed in the direction of the skater with his thumb. Yuuri lounged in a chair he’d probably brought himself next to the kiss and cry. He was wearing a Russian jersey. Victor walked up to him and realized that it was _his_ Russian jersey. It was at least one size too big for Yuuri.

“Hey, Snowflake! Before you ask, I don’t know what your scores are.”

“Is that my –”

“It is,” Yuuri said, sat up and started to unzip it.

“Y-you can keep it!” Victor exclaimed, turning red.

Yuuri smirked, reached under his chair and pulled out an object Victor hadn’t noticed before. It was Yuuri’s leather jacket. He tossed it into Victor’s arms. “Enjoy.”

Victor pulled it on. It was just a little bit small for him, but that didn’t matter. It also didn’t matter that he was wearing more layers of leather than could be considered reasonable. He beamed at Yuuri and went to sit in the kiss and cry to wait for his scores.

The commentator shouted something and Yakov said something with a smile, but Victor wasn’t listening. He didn’t even look at the display. His eyes were still on Yuuri. What did _he_ think? What was his score for Victor’s performance?

Yuuri stood up. He nodded to show he was pleased and Victor felt his heart beat faster.

“Vitya, I expect an even better skate for…”

Victor looked at his coach, but what was the point in that? Who cared if Yakov liked his performance or not? Even the judges’ scores didn’t matter much. He stared back into the face of the handsomest man and nodded back.

_You liked it. You actually liked it._ He forgot he was a five-time world champion with many more titles besides. He forgot the piles of medals and trophies at home. He forgot the praise, and the fans, and the fame that made him more of a celebrity than an athlete (or the hard time some athletes gave him over this).

Yuuri held out his hands and Victor ran into his embrace.

“Here’s a side of you I didn’t know existed, Snowflake,” Yuuri said into his ear. “I’d like to see it more and preferably in bed.”

Victor blushed and stammered out something incoherent.

“Not that you needed to become a different person to beat the kid,” Yuuri went on.

A group of fans appeared out of nowhere and surrounded the two skaters. Victor pulled away from the embrace and took Yuuri’s hand instead. One of them stepped forward and shouted angrily at Yuuri:

“You ruined Victor Nikiforov! He’s not the same anymore!”

“He’s not a virgin anymore,” Yuuri responded, before Victor could even open his mouth. There was a brief pause as Yuuri enjoyed the traumatized looks on their faces. “You’re welcome.”

He led Victor out as if that was enough conversation with fans for one day. Victor felt a little dizzy and clung on to Yuuri’s arm to keep from falling over.

 

They walked to Yuuri’s motorcycle and Yuuri went on as if they hadn’t been interrupted. “I suppose you’ll be asking me for driving lessons next.”

Victor had nothing to say to this.

“It hasn’t even occurred to you, has it? Well, I’m sure there are plenty more benefits you haven’t anticipated.” Yuuri stopped in front of his bike. “And you are still wearing my gloves.”

Victor stared down at his hands. “Ah! I … uh…”

“Get on, Snowflake. I won’t teach you how to drive, but I can always give you a feel for it.”

Victor got on uncertainly. Yuuri climbed on behind him. He reached forward and put Victor’s hands on the handles, keeping his own hands over his coach’s.

“You lean forward like this and imagine you’re going really fast.” He shifted forward slightly. “And, once again, you’re too tall for this.”

Victor blushed. “Y-you’re really… close,” he said at last.

“Nothing new there. You should be used to it by now.”

“Let’s switch back.”

Yuuri got off the bike and watched Victor slide backwards on the seat.

“I do want my gloves back,” he said and pulled them off before Victor could do anything.

Yuuri took the shortest route home and, once they arrived, headed straight for the bedroom.

Victor paused in the doorway. “Yuuri, I…”

Yuuri watched him. “Well, I won’t say anything about a prize, because you haven’t won yet, but I was rather hoping to get mine. I’ll make it easy for you.”

He stripped and lay down on his stomach.

Victor sat on the bed beside him.

“Well?”

Victor ran his hands over Yuuri’s shoulders and down over his shoulder blades. Yuuri was about to make a joke about massages when Victor lowered his head and added kisses to this odd caress. He tilted his head slightly and slid his nose up against Yuuri’s back. _Damn, Slowflake, you are good at this._

“Dear Victor, please take me,” Yuuri said, imitating Victor’s voice and adding just a hint of sarcasm.

“Yuuri.”

“I may be a five-time champion on the ice, but off the ice I get scared of my own shadow. I’m especially useless in bed,” Yuuri went on.

“Yuuri!”

“Here is my boyfriend offering himself up and I can’t even make a move on him.”

Victor planted more kisses on Yuuri’s back.

“I hope you remember the lecture I gave you in Barcelona,” Yuuri said in his normal tone of voice. “I want to be able to walk after this.”

He thought they were getting somewhere, but it soon became obvious Victor was still very shy and barely had the courage to touch Yuuri. His hands paused on Yuuri’s lower back. Yuuri felt his impatience grow.

“Really, Victor, all this time and you can’t even feel me up a little bit? Do I have to explain how it’s done?”

Victor apologized and slid his fingers downwards.

Yuuri bit his lip. Would Victor stop, if he made some sort of noise, or would he keep going?

“Yuuri…” Victor whispered and climbed over him. He kissed Yuuri’s neck and whispered into his ear, “I’m sorry. I know I’m not good at this.”

“Shut up,” Yuuri said in return. _I refuse to believe that._

He decided to remain quiet, but he didn’t have enough self-control for that. He gasped. “You were going to deny me this?” he complained.

“I love you, Yuuri,” Victor whispered into his ear.

“And, dammit, your height makes this even better!”

Yuuri’s breathing came in gasps punctuated by swearing. How did Victor _not_ faint that time in Barcelona?

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered, “I… uh…”

“You’re not going anywhere!” _Not now._

“I want to… um…”

“Yes? What? You’ve got my full attention right now!”

“No, never mind.”

“Oh _great_!”

The next few minutes of their conversation, if it could be called that, consisted only of their names. It wasn’t witty or sarcastic, but it sufficed: they understood each other perfectly.

“Do you think we could…” Victor began after a while.

“Right now, Snowflake, you can ask for anything you damn well like and the answer will be yes. Hell, I’ll even put up with a ridiculous nickname.” _I’ll put up with anything, if you don’t stop._

“Yuuri…” But still he couldn’t continue.

“Ah hell!” Yuuri pulled away reluctantly and turned around. “What? What is it?” He waited for Victor to say something, anything, but Victor merely stammered on. He couldn’t say the words, but his eyes gave away what he wanted. “Alright, well, I’m going to take a wild guess.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Go right ahead.”

He dropped onto his back on the pillow and waited. Victor didn’t hesitate this time. Yuuri didn’t even have time to think of something sarcastic to say.

“Viten’ka,” he whispered, not a trace of anger or sarcasm in his voice. He was suddenly aware of the fact that bits of his brain shut down for the indeterminate future. There went most of his frustration with the universe along with most of his memory. He stared up at the ceiling, gasping for breath.

_It turns out you’re a powerful force, Snowflake. I better be careful. You can take the edge off me._

The sheets were drenched all the way through, but that didn’t matter. His forehead was covered in sweat, making his hair stick to it and that didn’t matter either. In that moment the rest of the world could do whatever it wanted Yuuri Katsuki wouldn’t care either way.

Victor raised his head and they looked at one another.

“Are you okay, Yuuri?”

“Sure… just… let me get my breath back.” _Ah, who cares about breathing anyway?_ “Come here, Snowflake.” He reached out and pulled Victor into a tight embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there are now 2 crossover fics between this one and The Devil Wears Gucci. Interview Me (which now has more than 1 chapter) and More Please. Neither of these actually need you to read The Devil Wears Gucci.


	26. Having Fun?

Yuuri sat next to Victor in a bar and yet he might as well have sat at the other end of the room. Victor was used to sitting close enough for their shoulders to touch. He’d gotten accustomed to holding hands, even if they had to reach over their thighs at awkward angles, or, if not holding hands, then at least Yuuri’s hand resting on his knee. Yet now they sat slightly apart. This distance made Victor uneasy. They’d had a couple of drinks each, but not enough to make either of them drunk. Victor rested his chin on his hand, his thoughts on the free skate the next day.

_We should go home,_ he thought. _If Yakov finds out I’ve been drinking the night before a competition he’ll get angry._ He sighed. Ever since he’d returned to figure skating to compete Yakov always seemed to be angry for some reason.

Yuuri was more tense than normal and Victor kept his eyes fixed on the table. Something was bothering him, but Victor didn’t have the courage to ask him what it was. He’d learned to read Yuuri’s mood and could see that this wasn’t a good time to start a conversation.

Victor felt Yuuri’s hand slide over his back until his arm was wrapped around him. He shifted closer. Victor raised his head and Yuuri leaned towards him.

“Sorry, Snowflake,” he whispered into his ear.

One instant he was sitting next to Yuuri, expecting a kiss, the next – they were both lying on the floor of the bar. Yuuri had his arms around his coach, trying to cushion his fall.

Shots rang overhead and Victor realized Yuuri was shielding him with his body.

“Yuuri,” he whispered.

“You have a competition tomorrow,” Yuuri hissed back, “remember that. Also I know someone is about to give me cover.”

On cue the sounds of gunfire got louder.

“Crawl around the bar and stay there where you’ll be safe. I’ll deal with this.” He got up and Victor saw the glint in his eyes.

He got to safety and then peered out to watch Yuuri go through the bar and take out everyone who was trying to shoot him down. He moved with amazing speed, firing shot after shot with incredible precision, as if he was putting each bullet into the gunmen’s hearts by hand. When he ran out of bullets, he slipped out of sight to reload.

Ten minutes after the firing had started it stopped. Yuuri stood in the middle of the bar, a gun in one hand and wiping the sweat off his brow with the other.

“Good evening.”

He spun around, raising his gun again, and Mila stepped out of the shadows. She was wearing a wig and did something to make her face unrecognizable, but the voice was definitely hers. She was in on it all too! Victor sat on the floor, feeling his heart beat faster. How many skaters were actually gangsters in disguise? And how many skaters, like him, had no secret identity?

“Having fun?”

“They nearly got Victor!” Yuuri exclaimed.

“Isn’t it lucky that you have such great reflexes?” Mila countered.

Victor stood up, but they ignored him. He felt his mind race. Mila knew about Yuuri and she’d encouraged him to confess his feelings. He wondered why she hadn’t warned him it would be dangerous.

“What is this about?” Yuuri asked wearily. “What do you want?”

“Why do you think this is about anything?” Mila asked.

Yuuri executed a perfect backwards flip and landed next to Victor. His coach gave him a shocked look. Yuuri put an arm around him without taking his eyes off Mila.

“Why are you here?”

“I have a job for you,” Mila answered.

There was a bitter smile on Yuuri’s face. “And you had to ruin my evening with Victor for this?”

“You managed to clean up the trash wonderfully,” she remarked, putting her foot on the head of the corpse closest to her. It was only a mercy that she wasn’t wearing heels.

Victor put a hand over his mouth and looked away.

“I would appreciate it if you _didn’t_ traumatize my boyfriend.”

He did his best to hold it in, he really did, but when his eye fell on another corpse on the floor, he found himself leaning over and emptying his stomach right there and then.

“Just don’t get any on your clothes or shoes,” Yuuri said. Then he went to the bar and fetched a glass of water. “Here.”

Victor raised his eyes, “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Yuuri said, making a dismissive gesture. “I’m only surprised you’re so sensitive to it now.”

Victor drank the water and watched them talk. Yuuri had once talked about Mila as if he was afraid of her, not even referring to her by name, but now he talked as if he owed her something.

“What sort of job are we talking about here?” Yuuri asked.

“I want you to ask someone a couple of questions. You are much better at getting answers from people than others.”

Yuuri smiled at the compliment. He looked at Victor and nodded. “I’ll do it.”

Mila nodded in approval. There was also a smile on her face. “It’s one of my own people,” she said. “I found a mole. Could help us answer some questions we both have. Should also help tighten the security around the two of you.”

Yuuri nodded.

Mila’s eyes locked onto Victor’s. “Take good care of Yuuri, _coach_.” She turned around and walked away waving her hand in farewell.

Victor gripped Yuuri’s hand in both of his. He looked into his pupil’s face, wondering what he would make of Mila’s comment.

But Yuuri was lost in the world of his own. Victor tried to read the expression on his face and found that he couldn’t. He, who’d prided himself in understanding all of Yuuri’s moods, suddenly had no idea what was on his mind.

“Yuuri…” he said quietly.

“Screw this, let’s go home.”

 

Victor skated out onto the ice as Yuuri took in his free skate outfit. He was dressed in black, embroidered with gold with a short jacket in the same colours. The cut of the clothes was such that it took a good figure to pull it off properly. Yuuri smirked, admiring what he’d earlier called Victor’s best feature. There was also a small black hat on his head. It was tilted sideways in a way that was at odds with who he was dressed as.

_Really Snowflake? A Matador?_

The music began and Yuuri’s mind raced. Victor, for all his innocence and fainting, seemed to find a thrill in flirting with death and now he was showing as much in his skating.

_First you skate as me and now you skate as what you like about me. I didn’t realize your theme for this season is Yuuri Katsuki._

But there was more.

Victor’s skating suggested the presence of a bull and his narrow escapes from it. But the imaginary bull was stubborn and kept attacking.

_Yes, you train the bull: you teach him by avoiding him and you try to tame him by breaking him this way._ Yuuri smiled. _Am I the bull, Snowflake? Stubborn and always on the offensive?_

And then his blood ran cold as he remembered the point of a corrida. It wasn’t about training the bull. It was about _killing_ him.

Victor jumped. The imaginary sword was out. A quadruple flip, a strike and the bull was finished.

_Where did you get an idea like that? Does this have something to do with our fight in Barcelona?_

He felt all of his old doubts resurface. It didn’t help that parts of the music had motifs from his Eros music.

The audience applauded loudly as the commentator proclaimed this to be a return worthy of a five-time champion, with both the short program and the free skate.

_Damn it, he’s right,_ Yuuri thought. He turned to look at the Russian Yuri.

The next generation of Russian skating had a smile on his face. He knew he was beaten, but all it did was make him want to fight harder next time.

And yet Yuuri just _knew_ that Victor was going to give them all a run for their money.

Yuuri watched Victor head for the kiss and cry with his coach and waited.

“And the score for Victor Nikiforov is 221.68! He’s beaten the World Record set by his own pupil in the Grand Prix Final!”

This met with the audience’s approval and they chanted his name loudly. The Russian champion stood up and waved at his fans. The chanting grew louder.

Yuuri watched the show unfold with his arms crossed. Victor turned to face him and smiled wider. Yuuri beckoned him with his finger and Victor left his coach behind, obeying the summons without stopping to think.

“Hello, Champion, would you like a ride?”

Victor turned beet red and nodded.

_How many people are watching right now? How many can guess what I just said by the look on your face?_

“Hello, Victor,” another voice said.

_Ah hell! Not now!_ He turned to see Mila standing behind him. She’d won the women’s figure skating championship the day before.

Mila stepped forward and extended her hand in congratulations. Victor shook it.

_The women’s champion congratulates the men’s champion and would like to remind his boyfriend that both their lives are effectively hers._ Yuuri kept his face neutral.

He felt his horror grow as he realized that Mila’s appearance was a message. Was she the one who gave Victor the idea for this mad routine? And, if so, what more was she trying to say?

_That she can use him to destroy me whenever she damn well likes._ She had both of them in the palm of her hand and any minute now she would squeeze.

She remained there throughout the preparations for the awards ceremony and stood next to Yuuri when they handed out the medals.

Yuuri watched Victor beam happily from the podium as if he’d never won medals before. _Not worried anymore, I see._

“I want you to interrogate the mole I found in my territory under _my_ _watch_ ,” Mila said, somehow managing to barely move her lips when she spoke.

Yuuri remained silent.

Victor tried to hug Yuri on the podium and got an elbow in the stomach for his efforts. He laughed it off while Yuri grumbled at him.

“One day I’ll skin that kid,” Yuuri promised.

“I didn’t realize you had a soft spot for our Yuri,” Mila said. “But, then again, you _are_ his type, so…”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows.

“What? Don’t tell me you didn’t notice!”

“Is Otabek one of yours?” He wouldn’t have dreamed of questioning her before, but at this point it didn’t matter anymore.

She was silent for several seconds, as if debating whether or not to tell him the truth and then admitted it. “He is.”

“Did you bail him out of jail?” Yuuri went on.

Mila turned away and left.

_So you did. I wonder how the cop ended up there. Actually, no, I don’t care._

Victor left the podium and rejoined his pupil.

“Gold medal, as promised,” Victor said, holding it out with both hands.

Yuuri lifted the medal to his lips, keeping his eyes on Victor and watching him blush. “I look forward to kissing all of your gold medals. Will you kiss mine?”

“Y-yes!”

 

Yuri watched Victor reunite with the Japanese Yuuri and a part of him wished he could join them. He got off the ice and Yakov started to lecture him about his temper, and the way he treated Victor, and maybe there was also something about the meaning of life. Yuri ignored him.

Otabek came up to him. “I really liked your skating,” he said and the praise made Yuri happy. “Do you want to go hang out later?”

Yuri nodded.

He had to wait until after the exhibition program. Since he won the silver medal, he skated second last and then stood by and watched Victor go out on the ice to excited cheers from the audience. All these years of competing and he goes off on a mad trip to pretend to be a coach only to come back and catch the audience by surprise and win gold yet again.

Victor was dressed in pastel colours. He had flowers in his hair and skated a light and airy routine. Yuri thought about faeries. Whether it was the skating or the outfit he was wearing, it looked like any minute Victor would dissolve in the air. And, because he was Russia’s legendary figure skater, they put on a real light show.

Yuri glared. _One day that will be me: top in the world and the national hero._

Victor landed jump after jump and demonstrated several new spins.

It was disgusting how obviously in love he was. Yuri rolled his eyes. Just like those heroes in movies floating up in the sky because they were in love. It was enough to make him want to throw up.

How did the Japanese Yuuri stand it?

He couldn’t help comparing the ethereal figure out on the ice to the guy in leather who blew people’s brains out when they got in his way. It was a textbook example of opposites attracting.

“Hey, kid.” As if sensing he was thinking about him, Yuuri showed up at the Russian Yuri’s side. “Having fun?”

Yuri wanted to swear. He opened his mouth to curse Yuuri, to call him every bad word he knew in every language he spoke. He wanted to belittle Yuuri, show him how much he hated the Japanese skater, how he held him in contempt. Yuuri was beneath him. The Grand Prix Final was proof of that.

He stood with his mouth open like an idiot, unable to say a single word.

“You’re a smart kid,” Yuuri said into his ear, “so I’ll only say this once. You touch Victor again, I’ll break your arm off. Got that?”

Yuri nodded. Even the way Yuuri got overprotective and threatened people was cool.

No! It wasn’t cool! It was disgusting! And horrible and lame! Cool people didn’t fall in love and go all soppy in public!

Victor finished skating and Yuuri went to meet him.

Yuri watched them flirt in that irritating way they did when they didn’t care who watched and dared the world to protest, and sighed.

In some small way he was jealous.

Otabek walked up to him and Yuri wondered if he could learn the coin trick Beka and Yuuri did. That would be cool.

He looked at Yuuri and Victor one last time. What was it about them that made it seem like they lived life to the fullest and in a way no one else could?

Yuri shook his head and walked away.

“I want to watch the Japanese Nationals live,” he told Otabek.

His friend smiled and Yuri felt as if he’d done something right. “Of course.” Otabek nodded. “I’m sure it will be very interesting.”

 

Yuuri and Victor crossed the parking lot to Yuuri’s bike without a word. Yuuri held Victor’s hand tightly, scanning their surroundings for threats as usual. He didn’t break the silence until they came to his motorcycle.

“For the first time, you won’t be too tall for something.” He picked Victor up by his waist and sat him sideways on his bike. Yuuri’s hands slid down over Victor’s thighs to his knees.

“What would you like, Russian champion?”

Victor caught Yuuri’s face with his hands and kissed him. Yuuri stepped closer.

After a while he pulled away with a mischievous smile. “Anything else?”

Victor smiled back.

“You know,” Yuuri said, sliding his hands back to Victor’s stomach, “you look very good on my bike. Like one of those ads.” He watched Victor blush. “How many gold medals will you win for me, Snowflake?” he whispered.

“As many as I can.” Victor leaned in for another kiss.

Yuuri put his forehead against Victor’s, effectively stopping the kiss. “Do you know what I want?”

Victor turned redder. “What?”

Yuuri moved closer so that his lips touched Victor’s ear. “To see you naked on my bike.”

Victor opened his mouth and closed it several times. He got a smirk in return.

“Let’s go home.”


	27. Sign my Underwear!

Victor was safely tucked up in bed, dreaming sweet dreams about whatever it was (candies and ponies, probably) as Yuuri left their apartment and headed for his appointment with Mila.

Her thugs brought him to her without a single ridiculous joke or insult (it was some sort of miracle). As always, Mila picked a very bare room for her interrogations. Yuuri remembered being interrogated there once. Back then they had completely different interests, or at least thought they did.

She greeted him coolly. “You’re late.”

Yuuri said nothing. He stared at the woman tied to a chair. “I thought you said the mole was a ‘he’.”

“Did I?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He pulled his knife out of his pocket and studied it as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “What’s your name?”

 

So they caught her. Big deal. She knew what she had to do, so she played with him.

“You can call me anything you like,” she teased, shifting her shoulders slightly.

“I’ll stick to Mole for now, then. How old are you, Mole?” His eyes were on his knife as if he was talking to it.

“Isn’t it rude to ask someone their age?” she continued toying with him.

“Probably.” He shrugged. “Where are you from?”

“Moscow,” she lied.

“Which part?”

“Does it matter?”

He continued to study his knife, not giving her a single glance. “Not really,” he said in a distant tone of voice.

She’d heard about him, of course. Who hadn’t? Yuuri Katsuki - who did what he liked and didn’t care who was watching (and sometimes gave the world the digital salute as he rubbed the fact in their faces). They all got together and watched him skate. Some of them even cheered him on.

Yuuri raised his eyes and she almost flinched. He was cold. There was nothing but ice in that stare. He circled around her, making her sweat nervously.

She felt him lift up strands of her hair.

Mila watched impassively.

“You must like your hair,” he said. “You certainly put a lot of chemicals in it.” He slid his knife over it, probably waiting to see if it would make her lose her self-control. Two could play at that game.

 _You’re one to talk!_ He looked like he used as many products as she did. “You would know.”

He circled her again and leaned over her face. “You have an ugly face. I suppose that’s your sad story. Ugly face – ugly life.”

“What?” she laughed.

He held a knife to her cheek. “You know who I am.” He said in a voice that was oh-so-many degrees below zero.

“I do, Yuuri Katsuki.” She’d seen him skate Eros and heard people joke that it was enough to make anyone, even a man, pregnant. He was like fire on the ice. Now here was an iceberg before her.

He put his knife away and took her face in her hands. It was an odd touch, his fingers pushed down to be almost painful as he held her head in place. All she could see where his cold, dark eyes. She was unable to look away.

How did he love Victor Nikiforov? Because he _did_. That much was obvious. But _how_? He was so cold!

“You really love him,” she said suddenly and laughed. “Victor Nikiforov, your _Snowflake_.”

“I do.” Not a single muscle twitched in his face. It was like stone.

She laughed some more. “We’ll kill him. No one can protect you, or him, or Mila over there. Boss will play a little and then he’ll kill you all.”

“Oh _good_ , I’ve always wanted to meet a person named Boss,” Yuuri said.

“His name isn’t Boss, stupid! It’s –”

Her time had run out. She’d taken poison earlier and now it was running through her bloodstream, freezing her.

“…cold…” She choked and died.

 

Yuuri stepped back and looked at Mila.

“She poisoned herself,” Mila said.

“Oh really? Thanks for that explanation,” he said sarcastically tossing his knife and catching it. “What a waste of time! Why didn’t you keep a better eye on her?”

Mila was too lost in her own thoughts to bother answering this question. “Who do you think Boss is?”

“Someone who’s obsessed with being dramatic, obviously. Why all the games? If you want me dead: shoot me. Or, if you really want to be dramatic, why not invite me to tea and poison everything? That will do the trick.”

He headed for the doorway, not bothering to even say goodbye.

 

Yuuri returned home to Hasetsu for the week between the Russian and the Japanese Nationals. This time Hiroko Katsuki went with Minako to meet her son and Victor at the train station.

She waited anxiously with Minako by her side, shivering from the cold even in her winter jacket. She’d barely heard from Yuuri during his time in Russia and she didn’t know much about his life there. Was he happy there? Did he have everything he needed?

The skaters arrived, hand in hand, surrounded by people who couldn’t decide whose autograph they wanted more. Eventually they blocked the way of the two men and there were lots of autographs handed out to the adoring public.

“Sign my underwear!” one girl screamed excitedly.

Yuuri laughed.

Hiroko listened to his laughter and her face split into a smile. Everything was fine. Her son was happy. And to her that mattered more than anything else. _I don’t care how many medals you win, Yuuri, as long as you keep smiling._

Yuuri and Victor exchanged a look.

“You’re not going to take your clothes off here, are you?” Yuuri asked to general merriment.

“No, I have it right here!” The girl held up a pair of underpants to more laughter.

“Then I’ll leave it all to you, Victor.” He looked at his coach as he spoke and Hiroko understood that look.

“But I want _your_ signature, Yuuri!” the girl protested.

“Why?” She opened her mouth to answer, but he interrupted with, “Hello, mom.”

The girl went as red as a tomato, turned around and bolted out of the train station. Everyone stared after her in silence for several seconds.

Hiroko stepped forward. “Hello, Yuuri! Hello, Victor!”

She hugged both of them, holding on to Yuuri for a little longer.

“We’ll both take my room this time,” Yuuri told her, not taking his eyes off Victor. He smirked at his coach. “Will you sign _my_ underwear, Victor Nikiforov?”

Victor stammered something incoherent in response.

Hiroko laughed, glad to hear that her son hadn’t lost his sense of humour.

They were only visiting for one day before going back to Tokyo for Yuuri’s competition, which was no time at all, but she was determined to make the most of it.

As soon as they returned home Yuuri got his bike and took Victor out for a ride. Hiroko watched them leave and then kept an eye on the window, waiting for them to return.

She heard the motorcycle on its way back 15 minutes later. Yuuri got off first and then held his hands out to help Victor get off and she watched the way they looked at each other. As they walked back to the house Yuuri said something that made Victor blush, clutching his coach’s hand tightly with both of his own. There was that mischievous glint in his eye that Hiroko knew so well. She’d seen it in his father’s eye when they were still dating.

Hiroko left the kitchen to greet them as soon as they entered the house.

“I feel really tired,” Yuuri said and looked it. He always suffered from jet lag, the poor boy. He made a dismissive gesture and left without saying anything else.

Victor joined Hiroko in the kitchen soon after. “Can I help?”

“You really don’t need to,” she told him, but he found a way to help her anyway.

She watched him wash the dishes with a smile. “You know, you remind me a lot of myself when I was younger.”

“What?”

Hiroko laughed. “Maybe that’s not exactly what I mean, but I had the same expression on my face when Toshiko and I were dating.”

Victor lowered his eyes. “I… uh… Yuuri and I are… well, I…”

 _And I used to get as flustered as you_ , she thought. “I’m glad I got to talk to you alone. I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me? For what?”

“For making Yuuri happy.” She knew her son was strong and could deal with anything, but she remembered the sadness that would sneak into his eyes sometimes and the way he’d disappear for long periods of time without saying anything made her feel like he was running away from himself.

For several seconds it looked like Victor was going to argue with her, but he opted for a smile instead. “He made me happy.”

 

Victor had dinner with the Katsukis, enjoying once again the feeling of being part of a big family. They always welcomed him with open arms and treated him like one of their own.

He thought of his poor old aunt living all alone and promised himself he’d visit again soon.

After dinner Victor went to Yuuri’s room to check up on his pupil, worried because Yuuri still hadn’t come down. The lights were off and, not wanting to wake Yuuri up, Victor didn’t bother turning them on.

He walked up to the bed and reached out.

But the bed was empty.

Victor’s blood went cold.

He felt a pair of hands wrap themselves around him. “I never thought you’d try to sneak up on me, Snowflake,” Yuuri whispered into his ear. He stood behind Victor as his hands trailed up his chest and undid the buttons of his shirt. He slipped his hands under the shirt once several buttons were undone and Victor could feel that Yuuri was wearing his gloves. Yuuri stepped closer.

Victor was having trouble breathing. “A-are you…?” He couldn’t ask the question.

“I’m wearing nothing but gloves, but I can take them off, if you ask me nicely,” Yuuri told him. “Will you hand yourself over to me, Snowflake, or do you have other plans for tonight?”

“Yes!”

There was a short silence and then Yuuri said, “You _do_ realize that you didn’t actually answer my question, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm only about partway through this fic, but I still want to thank you all for sticking around so far. I really, really appreciate all the kudos and comments! Also I can definitely recommend posting long fics: it's just so satisfying to look at the drop down menu with all the chapters and think "I wrote all that", but what I don't recommend is having 4 (or more) ongoing fics at the same time. Anyway, here's hoping I can still hit 100k words.


	28. He’s Hot

The Japanese Nationals were all set to be boring and predictable, but Yuuri was determined to change that. If Victor was going to surprise the audience, then two could play that game. And in this specific case, his coach would count as one of the audience. After all, Victor surprised him as well. He stood on the ice and looked into his coach’s face.

“Yuuri…” Victor whispered.

Yuuri shushed him, took Victor’s face and put his forehead against his coach’s. He closed his eyes.

Around them the crowd cheered and started to chant his name.

“Yuuri! Yuuri! Yuuri!” The two syllables of his name made the chant slightly hypnotic this time. He breathed in time with it.

Yuuri released Victor’s face, opened his eyes and skated backwards, keeping his eyes locked on Victor’s. Victor followed him as if hypnotized by Yuuri’s stare. Yuuri didn’t break eye contact even when he got into position.

The music started to play and he took his eyes off Victor. He let them go cold as they swept over the audience and judges. _You’ve seen hot Eros, now prepare yourselves for cold Eros._

He didn’t change much about the routine, mostly the delivery. In retrospect, he wondered why he’d found Eros so difficult. It came so naturally now.

_I am very attractive and I know it, and I know you know it. I can see you’re interested but you sure as hell are getting none of this,_ his routine seemed to say. He poured in his sarcasm and everything he’d learned about seduction in his time with Victor. But mostly he just made good use of his shoulders.

Maybe it was because he was completely calm and cool when he skated, or because it was a competition he knew he’d win and, therefore, didn’t need to try so hard at, but he skated it much better than he’d done during the Grand Prix Final. He landed the quadruple flip flawlessly this time.

When the music ended and he froze in the final position the audience held its collective breath for several seconds before exploding into applause.

_That’s how it’s done. Keep them hooked and they will follow obediently._

He skated to the kiss and cry and tried to read the expression on Victor’s face. His coach was eyeing the ground with an interest it didn’t deserve.

“Chin up, coach,” he said, approaching Victor, “or are you that ashamed of my performance?”

“N-no…”

Yuuri got off the ice and Victor handed him his skate guards. Yuuri used his shoulder as support as he put them on and still Victor couldn’t meet his eyes.

_What’s wrong?_

They went to the kiss and cry where they sat with their shoulders touching. Victor’s eyes were on the ground. “Yuuri, I… uh… sometimes I forget you’re my pupil, or I stop believing it.” There was a short pause as Victor gathered his courage for the next thing he wanted to say. “And I… I still can’t believe that you’re… my… um… my b-boyfriend.”

Yuuri laughed and leaned close to whisper into his ear. “Tell you what: why don’t you be on top tonight?”

Victor’s face was redder. He looked up at Yuuri and nodded.

_Success_.

“And the score for Yuuri Katsuki is 119.2! He’s beaten the world record for men’s short program set several weeks ago by Yuri Plisetsky at the Grand Prix Final!”

“Yuuri –!”

The current world record holder for men’s short program grabbed his coach and kissed him, climbing onto his lap and not giving a single damn what people would say afterwards.

 

The rain was coming down hard on the streets of Tokyo. Some poor soul was stuck outside, trying not to catch his death, but Yuuri’s thoughts weren’t on him, or the rain, because even though he was wet it was for another reason entirely. His thoughts were on the poor soul currently on top of him.

Someone out there wanted them both dead, well, arguably, they wanted Yuuri Katsuki dead, but they were planning to get Victor in the process.

_No,_ he thought, _you’re not getting either of us, because I’m going to get you first and I’m going to make you beg for mercy before the end. And it won’t be the fun kind of begging for mercy either._

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered into his ear, “is something wrong? You’ve gone all tense.”

“It must be the anticipation.”

“But I’m already on top of you.” Victor managed to only stumble over the last word.

_Bravo, Snowflake! I’ll make a tough man of you yet._

“I think you mean you’re already riding me.”

Victor pulled away. Yuuri turned around. Victor sat down on the edge of the bed and fidgeted. Yuuri slid over to sit beside him.

“What? Is it still hard to say it?” Yuuri shifted closer and put one hand on Victor’s back. “Will you say it?” he asked quietly.

“S-say what?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.” He slid his hand over to Victor’s shoulder. His other hand was on Victor’s chest.

“I love you,” Victor whispered.

“That’s not what I was referring to.” He kissed Victor’s shoulder. “Well?”

“I – I…” He stuttered and then took a deep breath. “I want to ride you again,” he whispered and covered his face with his hands.

Yuuri climbed onto his lap and pulled Victor’s hands away. “Me too,” he said and kissed Victor. _I’ll teach you to talk dirty yet._

 

It was almost Yuuri’s turn to go out on the ice. He was taking in the look on his coach’s face as a smirk played on his lips.

The fans were chanting his name again and someone screamed their undying love for him in Japanese. The smirk was wider now.

By an odd coincidence Victor smiled at Yuuri in that moment and said, “Will you teach me how to say ‘I love you’ in Japanese?” Then Victor seemed to realize what he’d just said and his blood rushed to his face.

Yuuri took Victor’s hands and pulled him close with one quick movement. “Я люблю тебя,” he said, translating the words to Russian instead.

It was a phrase Victor’s aunt had taught him that cold morning on January 1st while Victor slept and he was pleased with the effect it had on Victor now.

“My dear _coach_ , my lips are all chapped. How can I skate my program now?” he asked, giving Victor a sly look.

Victor searched his pockets and pulled out a small container. He applied the chap stick over Yuuri’s lips with the most innocent look imaginable.

_Not what I had in mind, but this is so typically you. If I were someone else I would probably call it cute. I’m tempted to call it annoying. And yet…_

Victor put it away when he finished and pulled Yuuri into a hug.

“I really want you right now,” Yuuri whispered into his ear. _Hell, I want you all the time, but let’s play a little._

He pulled away and watched the blood rush to Victor’s face.

“I want to feel you come in me,” Yuuri whispered.

Victor looked ready to faint, but Yuuri wasn’t in the right mental state to read the signs. He was speeding onwards, chasing the horizon and not bothering with little things like stopping for red lights.

He leaned forward and whispered, “It’s my turn tonight. I promise to have you begging for mercy before the end.”

And, maybe, Victor wouldn’t have passed out then either, if Yuuri hadn’t chosen that moment to adjust his gloves with his teeth.

“It looks like Victor Nikiforov fainted! Will he really miss his student’s free skate?” the commentator exclaimed, probably glad to have something new to narrate for once.

_Well, we haven’t done that one before!_ Yuuri thought as he held Victor’s unconscious form. _Damn! Why did I get so carried away? Now what do I do?_

He looked around, but there wasn’t anyone he could trust to look after Victor, so he had to entrust his coach to a chair. He lowered Victor carefully and caught the eye of a kid staring at him. The kid looked as flustered as Victor had been before he fainted.

Something about the kid was vaguely familiar, but Yuuri had no time to bother remembering the names of random children, or where he’d seen them before. He just hoped that he wouldn’t have to deal with the kid fainting too.

_No, I can’t leave Snowflake like this,_ Yuuri thought. _Damn! Now what?_

He leaned over Victor. He’d tried to learn CPR once. In fact, there were several skills along the same vein that he’d tried to learn and Phichit later made fun of him for his failure to do so. He couldn’t treat wounds, he couldn’t…

_Oh great, it’s supposed to be CPR, not kissing!_ He cursed himself. _Hell if I know how this works! All I know is how to kill people, not bring them back to life!_

“Next on the ice: Yuuri Katsuki!”

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered, suddenly awake, “you need to go.”

“Hold on.” His fingers were in Victor’s hair.

Victor climbed to his feet and pulled Yuuri up with him. “You don’t want to be disqualified.”

Yuuri released his coach and turned away. “Of course I do. I trained all this time just to be disqualified in the national competition in my own country.”

_I was worried about you, Snowflake! I don’t have enough protection for you here._

He exited onto the ice, feeling conflicted. The kid caught his eye again and he remembered where he’d seen him before: it was during the Chugoku, Shikoku, and Kyushu Championship.

_“Will you watch me skate?”_

_“Why?”_

_“I dedicated my skate to you, Yuuri.”_

_He was drooling over me then and he seems to be drooling over me now. Just great!_

Yuuri got into position and caught Victor’s eye. _Does he really expect me to skate this routine lyrically again? No, that was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. So you better have it recorded somewhere, because chances are you will not see that again._

 

Watching Yuuri’s performance while remembering he was his coach was getting harder and harder each time. His pupil was about to skate his free program, but all Victor could think about were Yuuri’s words. Once again, various parts of his body were calling his brain to point out the same thing: Yuuri Katsuki was handsome.

_No,_ Victor thought, _handsome is the wrong word entirely._ He bit his lip, as if afraid he’d say something aloud. _No, he’s not handsome._

Victor’s heartbeat quickened as his brain replayed the Eros routine as Yuuri had skated it last.

_He’s hot._

Make-shivers-run-down-your-spine-and-your-pants-randomly-drop kind of hot. The kind of hot that made it illegal for that person to set foot in some countries.

Yuuri jumped and landed a flawless quadruple salchow. There was that satisfied smirk that seemed to say: _I’ve done it as flawlessly as ever. There is nothing I can’t do._

Victor put his hands on his face. _He’s Yuuri Katsuki. He’s hot. And he’s my boyfriend._

No, he was never going to really believe it.


	29. You’re Beautiful, Snowflake

It will come as no surprise to anyone that the gold medallist in the Japanese Nationals was Yuuri Katsuki. His free program didn’t break the world record, but, for the moment that didn’t matter. For now, Yuuri and Victor shared the world records for men’s figure skating, what with one of them holding the record for the short program and the other – for the free skate.

Victor went on about sharing the world record all the way back to their room, completely oblivious to Yuuri’s mood. He stepped into their room and Yuuri closed the door without a word.

“I think I’d like a hot –”

Yuuri trapped Victor against the wall. “Cancel the hot bath, Snowflake, you’ll just have to settle for hot sex instead. Isn’t that a shame? I –”

Victor cut him off with a kiss.

Yuuri’s hand trailed up to his tie and loosened it. Victor took it off and tossed it aside.

Yuuri stepped up closer to him. “Don’t undress, Snowflake. I’ll do it this time.”

There was a blush on Victor’s cheeks again.

“And if you feel like fainting,” Yuuri said, “I suggest you do it now.”

“N-no… I…” Victor stuttered. _I don’t want to faint! I’ve_ never _wanted to faint! If I knew how to stop, I would never do it again._

“You know, sometimes I wonder if you have a fainting quota,” Yuuri went on mercilessly.

“Q-quota?”

Yuuri’s hands were unbuckling Victor’s belt, but Yuuri went on as if it was just another conversation between the two of them. “Yes, is there an amount of times you need to faint every day? Or maybe a specific amount you have per week?”

“What?” Victor’s head was spinning as Yuuri unzipped his pants and pushed them down.

“Because I want to know what it is. And then you can get it all out of your system.”

They’d done this before, he tried to tell himself. Yuuri had undressed him several times and with that spark in his eyes. There was no reason to faint.

But Victor’s mind was determined to remind him of the cold Eros routine and his thoughts about it. He was weak at the knees and he was certain Yuuri could see it.

Yuuri stepped back and smirked, “Maybe I’ll wait to see if you faint.”

“Yuuri!” Victor protested, reaching out and catching him by the arms. “Please… don’t… ah!” His face was all red. “I-I’m… I just… uh… you know I’m yours.”

“Of course you are.” Yuuri stepped up close. “You’re _mine_.” His hands trailed up Victor’s chest and started on his buttons. “Completely mine.”

“Yes…”

Yuuri’s eyes had a frightening look in them. Victor closed his own and concentrated on breathing.

“I barely do anything and you get so excited,” Yuuri whispered. “I bet I could describe what I would do to you and you’d feel as if I’ve done it.”

Yuuri’s hands hit the wall on either side of Victor. Victor willed himself not to flinch.

“Well? Should I describe it to you instead?”

Victor opened his eyes and took in the face several inches away from his. “I’m yours,” he repeated, taking that face into his hands.

“Yes, I think we’ve established that already.”

Victor reached forward and kissed Yuuri on the cheek.

“Snowflake…” Yuuri whispered and Victor felt his warm breath on his own face.

He went on, kissing Yuuri on one cheek and then switched over to the other.

“You’re ridiculous,” Yuuri whispered, undressing himself, “completely ridiculous.”

Five minutes later Victor was still at it and Yuuri was already half naked.

“Stop,” Yuuri whispered, “just stop… this is… so stupid.” He pulled Victor’s shirt off at last and dragged him towards the bed. “Are you trying to smother me with kisses, Snowflake? Because it might be working.”

Victor sat down on the bed, taking Yuuri with him.

“Or maybe,” Yuuri said after a while, “maybe you’re determined to get me to ask for mercy?”

Victor blushed.

“Hmm,” Yuuri went on, “I’m not sure I’m in a mood to do that yet. Let’s try something else.” Yuuri pulled his fingers through Victor’s hair. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re beautiful, Snowflake?”

Victor lowered his eyes and took Yuuri’s hand in both of his. “You asked me the same question during the banquet after the Grand Prix.”

“And what was your answer?” Yuuri asked, shifting closer.

“You passed out before I could say anything.” Victor kissed Yuuri’s knuckles.

Yuuri climbed onto his lap. “And what is your answer now?”

“No one has ever called me beautiful,” Victor said with a sigh.

“That’s one injustice I’m actually willing to correct,” Yuuri pushed Victor down on the bed. “You’re beautiful, Snowflake.”

“I-I am?”

Yuuri chuckled. “No, I’m just trying to flatter you, because obviously I have nothing better to do right now.” He caught the expression on Victor’s face and sighed. “Yes,” he said in a serious tone of voice, “you are. I wouldn’t be saying it otherwise. Am I really the first one to tell you?”

“You are.”

“Well now,” Yuuri gave Victor an up and down look that made Victor turn redder, “I think I can find a much more enjoyable way of telling you the same thing.”

Victor tried to stammer something out and settled for nodding instead.

“I won’t hold back,” Yuuri promised.

 

The return to Russia was marked by another airport reception. This time Yuuri was surprised to see his own fans alongside Victor’s fans. Everyone was shouting something different at the top of their voice, the end result being enough to give everyone a headache.

_What? No collective chanting of someone’s name? I’m disappointed! Maybe I should organize a fight between our fans. That should be fun to watch! We can even bet on the outcome._

Yuuri stopped and looked at Victor with a mischievous expression on his face. “Well then, Yuuri Katsuki’s beautiful boyfriend, would you like to give a speech?”

“Speech?” Victor repeated in surprise. “I didn’t…”

“I have a better idea, then.” Yuuri grabbed Victor by the lapels of his coat and pulled him into a kiss.

The fans cheered, booed and shouted all sorts of nonsense, but Yuuri didn’t care. If he hadn’t been so busy grabbing a hold of Victor, he would’ve probably flipped them off with one of his hands.

He pulled away and whispered, “I’m going to need more hands for you, Snowflake.”

Victor looked ready to faint.

“Come on, Snowflake, let’s go home.”

 

Victor decided to bake something complicated to celebrate their double victories. He spent all day agonizing over the recipe in the kitchen, looking up instructions on the Internet and then misinterpreting them. Yuuri stayed out of his way, not trusting himself with not making a comment.

The sky outside grew dark. It was late enough in the afternoon for it to be called the evening. Yuuri walked into the kitchen and took in Victor’s frustrated expression. He sat down on one of the counters right next to him.

“Ah! Yuuri!” Victor turned around. “I don’t know what went wrong! No matter what I try it just keeps getting worse! I’m so sorry! I thought I could –”

Yuuri reached out, caught Victor’s face with his hands and pulled him into a kiss. Victor flailed before putting his hands over Yuuri’s and responding.

Yuuri pulled away. “Let’s eat out somewhere, Snowflake.”

“But I…”

“Take me somewhere fancy,” Yuuri insisted. “I promise not to shoot the waiters.”

 

The chef at one of St. Petersburg’s most fashionable restaurants was having a very boring day so when one of the waiters came in with a traumatized look on his face he almost leapt at the opportunity to listen to a scandalous story. After all, who wouldn’t want to share the reason for their trauma?

“What happened?”

“Did I make someone angry? Am I guilty of some great sin?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Two young men came in today. One of them was Victor Andreevich Nikiforov, the five-time skating champion, and the other was some kind of… devil. They took a seat and immediately the other one had his arms all over Victor Andreevich. Not another one, I thought. I took their order. Everything was fine. I brought it to them. Still everything was normal. And then they started to eat!” he shuddered. “I’ve never seen such a disgusting display in my life! Victor Andreevich sat there with an innocent look on his face until five minutes later he understood and nearly fainted! And his date said –”

 

“No need to get all worked up, Snowflake. It’s just food. You, on the other hand.” Yuuri swallowed and Victor blushed deeper. “Speaking of hands…” He lowered his fork and licked his fingers. They were perfectly clean, but that didn’t matter. “Do you think the waiter who served us will faint, throw up or have a stroke?”

Victor blushed and tried to stutter out something.

“Or, who knows, maybe they never get this kind of action around here and he’s actually enjoying it?” He slid closer to Victor. “Are _you_ enjoying it, Snowflake?”

“Yuuri…” Victor said and shifted away.

Yuuri followed instinctively.

Any observers who weren’t scandalized by their behaviour were probably entertained by the sight of two figure skaters playing a very odd game of tag around the table.

Against all odds, an astronomer sat two tables away and told her husband some sort of joke about the movement of planets in the Solar System that he secretly thought was almost as scandalous as the behaviour of the two figure skaters.

From a corner of the room someone watched and took several photos. Two minutes later they were uploaded to a drive Phichit kept for storing everything related to Yuuri Katsuki. Four minutes later Mila was going through them on her phone and laughing herself sick. Ten minutes later they were uploaded online. An hour later they went viral. Two hours later Yuri Plisetsky saw them and swore under his breath.

His phone rang.

“Hello?” he answered and turned over onto his back. He was lying on his bed in his room, his cat curled up beside him.

“How close are you to Yuuri Katsuki?” the voice on the other end asked.

“That idiot! I hate him! He’s disgusting and –”

“Do you know that his life is in danger?”

Yuri froze. He remembered his time in Hasetsu when someone shot at them and Yuuri had protected him and Victor. Or maybe he just protected himself. “Yes,” he answered, “but how –”

“Don’t ask any questions and do exactly as I say. I don’t have time to explain anything right now.”

Yuri sat up and stared at his phone in amazement. “What?”

“Grab your most important things and come downstairs. I’m waiting for you by the doors.”

“Mila?”

But the line went dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don’t know how this fic looks when downloaded in an ebook format, but in the Word doc I’m working on I’m now over 100 pages and with tiny margins too! I'm so proud.


	30. Are you Mad?

Yakov wasn’t ready for the first day of practice with the two world record holders in men’s figure skating. When the much-dreaded first day ended, Yakov felt that he would need a lot of therapy to just recover from it. He had no idea how to deal with the days that would follow. He ranted for a long time to Lilia afterwards and she listened to it all with the usual sour look on her face.

“I don’t know why you’re complaining,” she said, “when it’s obvious that you have a perfect situation here.”

“Perfect? Are you mad?”

She gave him a disapproving look to show him that she didn’t think this remark was funny. “Victor is now going to try his hardest to continue winning.”

Yakov opened his mouth to swear, remembered how much she hated it just in time and closed his mouth again. “Forget it,” he said and left the room, disappointed that she hadn’t shown him the sympathy he’d hoped for.

It had to be conceded that Yakov had a point. Yuuri went out of his way to make it the most trying experience imaginable and Victor played into his hand without realizing it.

It all started with Yuuri arriving thirty minutes late. Why he didn’t arrive with Victor, Yakov didn’t know. Victor couldn’t focus and kept turning around to look at the doors to the ice rink. Then he got off the ice and headed back to the change room to wait for his pupil there. Yakov followed him there, trying to persuade him that he could practice on his own while he waited.

“Did you miss me?” Yuuri asked, walking into the change room and tossing his jacket at Victor.

Victor caught it mostly with his face and a little with his hands. “Y-Yuuri!”

Yuuri changed into his skates and headed for the ice rink.

“You’re late, idiot!” Yuri shouted at him, stopping mid routine to turn around and glare at the Japanese Yuuri.

“It’s all Snowflake’s fault,” Yuuri said pointing a thumb at Victor. “After what he did to me last night, I could barely crawl out of bed this morning.”

“Gross!” Yuri exclaimed, pretending to throw up.

“Yuuri!” Victor turned red.

“You’ll have to wait until tonight for more,” Yuuri said with a smirk, took off his skate guards and went out onto the ice.

Yakov stood and watched the horror unfold, unable to stop it.

Victor circled around Yuuri as his pupil jumped and then it was Yuuri’s turn to circle his coach. Victor asked Yuuri to go through his short program and then went through his own short program himself. Yuuri, forgetting who was the coach and who was the pupil (or that Victor’s coach was someone else entirely), broke into a speech about Victor’s short program.

He made Victor skate it over and over again and kept lecturing him about anger. After four repeats of the routine, Yuuri exclaimed, “No, it’s no good!” He waved his hand dismissively. “You obviously don’t know how to get really angry. Properly angry. I’m-going-to-kill-you kind of angry.”

Victor tried to protest, but succeeded only in stammering out something incoherent.

“Honestly, Snowflake, you should just skate naked. I’m sure the judges will give you a lot of points for that. And no one will notice that you’re not properly angry when you skate. Then again, maybe it would be better if I’m the one who skates naked. It would work really well with the Eros routine.”

Victor swayed on the ice and Yuuri caught him with a smirk on his face.

Mila skated past them and laughed.

 

Yakov got fed up with them after a while and kicked everyone off the ice. He went into what Yuuri later called ‘teacher mode’ and lectured everyone on respectable behaviour. Then he split them into two groups and said that the skaters will practice only at the same time as the people in their group. Needless to say, Victor and Yuuri ended up in different groups. Victor got permission to watch Yuuri skate, but not to go out on the ice unless it was strictly necessary.

Victor tried his best to be a coach in such difficult conditions. He watched Yuuri skate and gave him words of encouragement (all of which earned him sarcastic remarks). He then had to interfere (along with Yakov) when the two Yuris got into a shouting match, which concluded in a competition in insults.

Victor sighed. There was no way around it: Yuuri was just too much to handle. Even two coaches didn’t seem to be enough. He knew better than anyone that Yuuri would rebel just because he could. This wasn’t going to last very long. Would they have to go back to Hasetsu to train or would one of them have to give up their skating career for the other?

He was watching the two Yuris skate on opposite ends of the ice rink, wondering how long the relative peace would last when Mila joined him.

She was more dangerous than Yuuri, according to Yuuri himself, and he often acted like he was afraid of her, but Victor wouldn’t let that stop him. He had faith in Yuuri’s ability to protect him from harm.

“Why didn’t you tell me what you knew about Yuuri before you sent me to Japan?” Victor asked. The question had been bothering him for a long time and he’d waited for a chance to ask Mila when Yuuri was out of earshot.

“Because I wasn’t sure if you would’ve gone if I had,” she explained.

“It would’ve taken more than that to –”

“Really, Victor?” she turned away from the ice rink and looked at Victor. “Did you forget how much time I spent talking you into it?”

“Why?” he asked quietly.

“What?”

“Why were you talking me into it? What does it matter to you if I’m with him or not?” He looked into her eyes. “You sat with me for 5 hours straight, talking me into going. Why?”

“Because I couldn’t watch you waste away,” she said. “You’re Russia’s top figure skater. And I had a hunch that Yuuri would like you back. And look – I was right.”

Victor’s instincts told him something was wrong, but it all sounded so logical. Besides, Mila was his friend! He smiled. “You were.”

“And is he treating you well?” she asked.

 _Why do I still feel like she’s lying about something?_ “Y-yes.” He blushed, thinking of the night before.

Yuuri had been teasing, of course, about not being able to walk, but he couldn’t forget the sight of the skater lying in his bed, with his hair scattered all over his pillow whispering his name as Victor took him.

“Oh good, well, I have a favour I want to ask you.”

“Yes?” Now he was thinking of Yuuri climbing on top of him and licking his fingers in the same way as he’d done at the restaurant. It was making it hard to focus and it was making his heart beat faster.

Mila stepped up to him. “Stop thinking about your boyfriend for five seconds and listen.”

“O-okay,” he blushed and lowered his eyes.

“I want you and Yuuri to look after our Yuri.”

“Y- what? Why?” He raised his eyes and gave her a look of surprise. _How can you ask me something like that after their big fight half an hour ago?_

“Will you do it?”

 

“Absolutely not,” Yuuri responded when Mila put the question to him after practice. “I will take every minute I can get with Victor. We don’t have time for a snotty kid to hang about the place. Get Otabek to do it.”

They’d gathered together in the change room. It was just the four of them: Georgi left after casting a curious look over the group.

Yuuri and Victor stood against one wall of lockers, while Mila and Yuri stood against the opposite one. Yuuri’s arms were crossed over his chest, but he looked ready to lash out any minute and deal out all kinds of pain and misery to everyone around him.

“Otabek,” Mila said in a quiet and controlled voice, “is currently in a hospital.”

Yuri grabbed Mila by the arms. “What? What happened to him? Is he going to be okay? Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”

Mila smiled. “Oh, he’s fine, but I thought we could throw some lies around.”

“What the hell does that mean, old hag?” Yuri demanded, shaking her angrily.

“It means,” Mila said, freeing herself, “that he’s lying in a hospital bed with a gunshot wound, according to all the paperwork, but in reality, he’s just catching up on sleep and lying low.” She gave Yuri a cold smile. “This is the world you’ve entered, Yura. Are you ready? Because it’s going to happen whether you’re ready or not. And I already know you’re going to be the next target.” She looked into Yuuri’s face. “And then it’s Phichit.”

Yuuri turned away.

“You can’t –” Victor began, stepping forward, but Yuuri held out an arm in front of him.

“We’ll take him,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a weakness for the podium family, so of course I will try to stick the trio together if I can. Fun fact: I was the one who coined the term “podium family”.
> 
> If you want to see Yuuri in a leather jacket and riding a motorcycle with Victor sitting behind him (or just one of those things), you can find it [here](http://witharthurkirkland.tumblr.com/post/162609474473/i-commissioned-the-talented-ammeja-for-this).
> 
> Also, I realized that when I said that I would aim for 100k words I may have given people the wrong impression. I’m aiming for 100k words, yes, but the story has to actually make it to the ending and I have a specific one in mind, so it might take more words than 100k and it might take less. It all depends on how the writing goes at this point. I’m not going to cut it off at 100k, if takes 150k to get there. (Also, if you’re reading this after I finished the whole thing, congratulations: you know if I made it or not!)


	31. Will You Take a Life, Victor?

_Yuuri handed him a key the size of his hand and pulled up his shirt. There was a lock in the middle of his chest. Victor inserted the key and turned it, without even stopping to think._

_Yuuri disappeared to be replaced by the entrance to a long narrow corridor. It was badly lit and as Victor walked along it he could only see the next few meters ahead of him. He turned around. He could only see a few meters behind him. The corridor was completely featureless: just two really tall walls on either side of him and a passage that seemed to go on forever._

_And then he came to a fork. Both ways looked identical. He picked the one on the right and kept going. It didn’t take long before the corridor ended in a wall. He slid his hand over it, but there was no way he could continue this way._

_He retraced his steps to the fork and took the other path._

_Victor passed through many forks and hit several dead ends before it finally sunk in: he was in a labyrinth. There wasn’t much he could do but try to get out, so he kept going._

_Eventually he came to the end of the path and walked out into a small clear area. Around it were the entrances to more passages. He didn’t escape the labyrinth, then, merely arrived at its centre._

_He sighed._

_“Victor!”_

_He turned around at the sound of his name._

_Yuuri stood in the middle of the clearing where Victor could’ve sworn no one had stood before. He was completely naked, but his body was smooth, as if he was a mannequin from a store and not a human being. He didn’t even have private parts, but Victor didn’t think about that until much later._

_“Yuuri!” He took his pupil by the hands and smiled at him._

_He heard footsteps and turned around to see Death coming towards him. She was in a long black dress and there was a scythe in her hands. She had Mila’s face._

_“Will you take a life, Victor?” She offered him her scythe._

_Victor stepped back and felt Yuuri embrace him from behind._

_“Will you take a life to save Yuuri?”_

_He swallowed. “Yes,” he whispered and held out his hands for the scythe._

_Mila smiled…_

 

Yuuri’s face was pressed against his neck and Victor suddenly felt very awake. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to remember what he’d dreamt about. Yuuri’s hands were under his back, sliding down and making it hard to focus.

“Morning, Snowflake,” Yuuri whispered, pulling his face away.

“I had a strange dream…” Victor mumbled.

“About what?”

“About you.”

Yuuri gripped him tighter and Victor felt his heartbeat increase. “Strange how?”

 _Oh God, he’s… he’s very naked! I mean, obviously, he’s naked, but…_ For several minutes Victor couldn’t remember anything and then he said, “Mila was there.”

Yuuri released him and sat up. He didn’t look pleased. “And?”

“She was…” _holding a scythe and_ , “asking me if I would kill to save you.”

There was an odd expression on Yuuri’s face and it took Victor several seconds to realize just what it was. Yuuri was alarmed. “And what did you say?”

Victor raised his hand and touched Yuuri’s face. “Yes, of course.”

Yuuri got out of bed. He turned away and crossed his arms over his chest. “I can teach you how to fire a gun or throw a knife,” he said quietly, as if talking to himself, “but I can’t teach you how to kill. I will never ask you to kill anyone or demand that you do it.”

“But Yuuri –”

Yuuri faced him. “If your life is in danger – run, get to safety as fast as you can. If I’m in danger, I will get out of it myself. I don’t want you to throw yourself in the way of a bullet, or do anything else equally stupid.”

“Yuuri –”

“And I _definitely_ don’t want you to kill someone to save me.”

“It’s not –”

“You don’t understand.” Yuuri sat down on the bed. “You think it’s easy: pull the trigger and the problem is solved, but that’s not how it is at all. First you have to get the bastard before he gets you and second,” he smiled bitterly, “you have to deal with yourself afterwards. He could have been the worst person in the world, but his death will follow you around everywhere. When you close your eyes you will see his face. You will hear his last words or his final scream of pain. And you will ask yourself over and over again why you did it and if it was right. Was there something else you could’ve done? And you will never know the answer.”

Yuuri went silent. He stared down at Victor, sliding his hands across the bed towards him. “And then you will hate yourself, the person you killed and the person who made you do it.”

“I won’t…”

“You don’t know, Victor. You’ve never killed anyone. You will eat yourself from the inside. And I won’t be able to help you.” He caught Victor’s hand between both of his.

“Was that what it was like when you first killed someone, Yuuri?” Victor whispered and sat up.

“I’m different: I don’t have a conscience.” Yuuri’s eyes were dark and cold as he said those words. He blinked and it was gone. “Promise me you will never kill anyone to save my life.”

“Yuuri –”

“Promise!” Yuuri demanded.

“I can’t –”

“Promise you will only kill if your own life is in danger.”

Victor looked into Yuuri’s face. “But if your life is in danger, then so is mine.” He reached out and took Yuuri’s face in his hands.

“Let’s skip practice,” Yuuri whispered, “and just spend the day together.” He leaned towards Victor until their foreheads touched. “I have yet to make you scream my name.”

Victor turned bright red. “Y-Yuri is next door,” he reminded him.

“Worried what he would think?”

“No, I… uh…” Victor struggled to find the right words.

“Oh you just don’t want to traumatize the kid?” Yuuri laughed and kissed Victor.

 

They found Yuri in the kitchen, making an omelette. Yuuri gave Victor a look of surprise.

“Are you making us breakfast, kid?” Yuuri asked, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. “I thought that was Snowflake’s job.”

“W-why is it mine?” Victor asked.

Yuuri shrugged. “Well, I’m not going to do it.” He waited for Victor to remind him of the breakfast at his aunt’s house and tried to come up with an explanation that didn’t sound like the aunt had made him do it. She _hadn’t_ made him do it. She merely waved a pan around and shouted what sounded like abuse in Russian.

But Victor’s mind was preoccupied with something else. The Russian Yuri was smirking at him.

“You let him live in your apartment and you do all the cooking?” he asked and laughed. “I didn’t know that Russia’s top figure skater was such a pushover! I can’t believe I lost to you!”

Victor blushed deeply and looked at Yuuri.

“Careful, kid,” Yuuri said, “this is _my_ pushover you’re talking about.”

Yuri gave him a dirty look. “I wasn’t making food for either of you.”

“So you’re planning on eating all that by yourself?” Yuuri asked. “That’s fine by me. I don’t like having my meals with bratty kids anyway.”

Yuri swung around to hit him and Yuuri caught his fist with his hand. “Stick to what you’re good at, kid. Unless you want to get hurt?”

“I want you to teach me how to fire a gun,” Yuri said, his fist still in Yuuri’s hand.

“Why?” _Is he ever going to stop asking?_

“Because I want to be able to defend my own life. I don’t want to rely on you or that old hag!” Yuri exclaimed.

“I’m not teaching you how to fire a gun,” Yuuri said.

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t be bothered with all that teaching nonsense.” Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Oh, you’re doing it wrong! You’ve almost got it. Good job! Well done!” he said sarcastically. “Here’s a golden sticker for your notebook. I know you can do it!” His face twisted in disgust. “I don’t hold with any of that crap. I don’t have the patience for it.”

“But you taught Victor, right?” Yuri asked.

“Why?” The question caught Yuuri by surprise.

“Because he needs to know how to protect himself,” Yuri said in the tone of someone explaining something that was really obvious.

“Victor has me,” Yuuri said. “I protect him. It’s my job to wave a gun around. If he has no gun, he’ll be less of a target and they’ll focus on me.”

Yuri looked ready to protest.

“Listen,” Yuuri said, catching Victor’s hand and holding it between both of his, “Victor is more innocent than most six-year-olds. He’s more innocent than you, never mind the whole not-a-virgin thing or what amazing things he can do with his mouth.” He paused and took in the embarrassed blush on both their faces. He made a dismissive gesture. “Hell, even the way you use your imagination, kid, proves my point.”

Yuri gave Victor a disgusted look while Russia’s pride covered his face with his hands.

“I want him to stay that way,” Yuuri said.

Both Russians stared at him in surprise.

“Didn’t expect that, did you? Well, if I wanted someone else, I would’ve found them by now, don’t you think so? No, Victor suits me the way he is.” He eyed Victor, watching him turn redder, but it was a different kind of blush (and Yuuri had learned to tell them apart). It was a pleased one.

“Yuuri…”

“It’s true,” Yuuri said simply. “That’s all there is to it.”

The Russian Yuri shook his head like someone who’d encountered an incomprehensible fact. “I don’t get it. I just don’t.”

“Of course not,” Yuuri picked up a plate and helped himself to a third of the omelette Yuri had made. “But, then again, Victor’s not your type.”

Victor caught him from behind, exclaiming, “I love you!”

Yuri made a disgusted noise and ran out of the kitchen.

“Well, that scared him off,” Yuuri noted with a smirk. “Do you want the rest of the omelette, or should I just finish it?”

 

Victor sat in a bar where he’d agreed to meet Yuuri and watched a drunk man who sat several seats away. The drunk waved his glass absently in his hand and kept giving the barman a lopsided grin. The barman wasn’t going to give in so easily. He folded his arms over his chest and regarded the drunk with an unamused look. The drunk mumbled something in an imploring tone of voice. It didn’t sway the barman.

The drunk rose unsteadily to his feet, nearly fell over and then staggered past the other drinkers who sat at the bar. He asked each of them for money for a drink, but they turned him down rudely. When he got to the rudest one, who swore at him for a good ten minutes, the drunk lost his balance and fell on top of him. The man swore some more at this. The drunk got up and came up to Victor.

Victor stared into the drunk man’s face and nearly jumped out of his seat. A pair of familiar eyes stared back from under bushy blond eyebrows. The man had thick blond hair and just a bit of a beard, but that didn’t matter. Victor recognized him right away.

_What are you doing?_

“Money for a drink?” the drunk slurred his words. “Jus’ one drink.” He swayed again and fell right over Victor. “Play along,” he whispered into his ear as his hands scrambled around Victor, trying to find some sort of support. It took him several tries before he managed to catch Victor’s shoulders and some more tries before he got to his feet.

Victor came to a decision. The questions would come later. “Sit down,” he motioned at the empty space beside him that he’d kept for Yuuri. “Barman, another drink, please.”

“He’s drunk witless,” the barman pointed out.

“Maybe,” Victor said with a sigh, “but if he has more, he might fall asleep and not bother anyone anymore.”

“You want me to be on my best behaviour?” the drunk asked. His words were so slurred it took Victor several seconds to figure out what he said.

Before Victor could reply, the drunk jumped up and broke out into a very rude song in Russian, singing at the top of his voice. Victor blushed at the lyrics. It didn’t help that he could picture some of the lines in the song quite vividly. He tried to quieten the man down, but he only sang louder.

Finally the barman got fed up with it and kicked both of them out.

The man stood in an alleyway by the back entrance, leaning against the wall and laughing like mad.

Victor was next to him, worried the drunk would pass out any minute.

“C’mere,” the drunk called to Victor. He didn’t bother waiting for Victor to move, just pushed Victor against the wall and kissed him.

_He tastes like alcohol! Oh my God! I think I’m going to faint!_

“You have a boyfriend, pretty boy?” the drunk asked, pulling his lips away at last.

“Y-yes…” Victor whispered, his head spinning.

“And isn’t he going to be jealous that you’re going around, kissing other people?” the drunk went on relentlessly.

“But, Y –”

The drunk covered Victor’s mouth with his hand and whispered into his ear, “Don’t give me away just yet, Snowflake.”

He’d changed his figure somehow, stuffing something under his clothes, probably. He wore a wig, a false beard and false eyebrows, but Victor could recognize those eyes and that voice anywhere, no matter what the disguise.

“I can see you’re really enjoying this,” Yuuri whispered.

Victor realized that he had that look on his face again: the one that Yuuri had learned to read and react to. Yuuri pushed his body against Victor’s and kissed him again, deeper this time.

“You ever kiss anyone else,” Yuuri hissed, pulling away, “I’ll kill them. Got it?”

Victor nodded. _There won’t be anyone else. How can there be anyone else?_

“Relatives don’t count,” Yuuri added, referring to Victor’s aunt.

Victor embraced him and buried his face in Yuuri’s neck. “Yurochka.”

“Don’t go all soppy on me. We’re in an alley, not our bedroom.”

Victor’s heart hammered in his chest at the word ‘bedroom’. “Let’s go home.”

“Hold on,” Yuuri whispered.

And so Victor held on. He had no idea how much time passed before Yuuri stepped back, freed himself from Victor’s embrace and walked away.

Victor rushed after him.

Yuuri pulled bits of his disguise off as he walked. He produced a bag from one of his pockets and stuck everything in it, including some of the clothes along with the inner padding. By the time they stepped out of the alley and into a main street Yuuri was back to looking like his usual self.

“I don’t have the bike nearby, so we can walk or catch a taxi. Which would you like?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Victor said.

“Oh, so you don’t care if you walk or drive for three kilometers?”

Victor squeezed Yuuri’s hand.

 

When they got back they found Yuri passed out on the couch. The table was set for dinner. Yuuri stared at the Russian Yuri sourly. Why hadn’t the Russian skater rebelled more? Yuri accepted living with them as if… as if _he actually wanted to stay with them._

Victor tried to shake him awake, but had no luck. He was too gentle at it, anyway.

“Let me,” Yuuri stepped in. “Oy! Kid!” he shouted right into Yuri’s ear.

Yuri jumped up, half terrified. He threw a look around him, noticed Yuuri smirking at him and glared. “You jerk! What the hell was that for?”

“Oh, I guess you wanted to continue sleeping on the couch,” Yuuri said, heading for the table.

Yuri glared at him. “That’s not for you!”

“Were you expecting someone else to drop by?” Yuuri asked, picking up a plate and loading it with food.

“Yes!”

Yuuri turned around and raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“No,” Yuri admitted, taking out his frustration on the rug.

“Come here, Snowflake, before it gets cold.”

Victor lingered at Yuri’s side. “Thank you,” he said and joined Yuuri at the table.

 

Yuri stayed up late, unable to sleep. He knew they were at it again in the next room, but they were quiet about it like last time.

 _Disgusting!_ he thought, sitting up in his bed and glaring at his phone. He was waiting for a text from Otabek, but for some reason it wouldn’t come.

Victor had given him the spare bedroom, which, according to him, had never been used before. Yuri did his best not to think about that.

Instead, his mind mulled over Yuuri’s words. How could Yuuri admit his feelings so openly? And what did he see in Victor?

He watched them flirt (or Yuuri flirt while Victor blushed and tried to keep up) many times and realized with some surprise that they acted the same way at home as they did in public. Most of the people he’d met acted differently based on who was with them or where they were. Yuri himself took care to be different from his usual self when in front of the press (or tried to, anyway, he rarely succeeded in this).

Maybe that’s what drew them together: that honesty in how they treated each other.

He sighed, pulled up his knees and buried his face in them, wrapping his arms around his legs. It was so easy to see what Victor saw in Yuuri. How many people could boast of having a significant other that would actually turn the world inside out just for them?

Once, when Yuuri was out, Yuri accidentally overheard a phone conversation between Victor and Chris:

 

_“No, no, he’s very gentle with me,” Victor argued and then exclaimed in surprise like someone who’d just realized what he’d said. “Ah! I… uh… I meant…”_

_Chris probably said something dirty at this and Yuri did his hardest not to imagine what it was._

_“Y-yes… How did you -? I knew that!”_

_Unable to stand it anymore, Yuri pulled out his headphones and blasted his music to drown out the rest of the conversation._

 

He tried his best to not feel jealous, and yet there was still that little pang. But he would die before admitting it, or how happy he was that he could live with the two of them. No, he wasn’t enjoying it at all. Not one little tiny bit. He was very certain of that.

“Yuuri!” Victor gasped out loudly and Yuri covered his face with his knees again.

_God! They’re so embarrassing! Why the hell do I have to be stuck with them?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I learned this week: getting art commissions is great! (Do any of you do art commissions? I think I have a couple of ideas.)  
> And for any of you who also read [The Devil Wears Gucci](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10610748/chapters/23463360) or [Interview Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11248713/chapters/25143588), [here](http://witharthurkirkland.tumblr.com/post/162693696473/i-give-you-the-editor-of-runway-victor-nikiforov) is a beautiful picture of editor Victor. I'm debating if I should commission art of editor Victor with bad boy Yuuri.


	32. I Trust You

Yakov was furious when Victor told him he was going to the Four Continents Championship with Yuuri. He went into the longest rant Yuuri had ever heard (and he’d actually timed this one; it was 31 minutes and 43 seconds long). Yuuri leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and watched the old man fill the air in the hallway with noise and spittle.

When Yakov stopped to gather more air into his lungs and try to think of more words to say, Yuuri pulled himself away from the wall and took a spot by Victor’s side, who stood with his head lowered. Yuuri didn’t like the sight of a different coach yelling at his and decided to say so. He took Victor’s hand and swore at Yakov, opting for Russian this time.

Yakov’s mouth dropped open. Then he gathered himself, stuck out his index finger and shouted abuse at Yuuri, poking him in the chest at each word.

“Shut up, old man,” Yuuri said, mixing Russian and English words. “I don’t give a crap what the hell you think about me, but if you’re planning to go on abusing Victor like this, I recommend writing a will.” His eyes flashed dangerously.

Yakov backed away.

“Victor is my coach, whether you like it or not, and I need him to come with me.”

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed.

Yuuri swore. “You think it’s all just a game, or something, old man? Do you think I’m taking advantage of him?” He clutched Victor’s hand tightly. “If you’re so damn blind, it’s no wonder your own marriage didn’t work out!”

“Yuuri!”

“What?” Yuuri snapped, turning around.

“Let’s go home,” Victor said.

Yuuri stared at Victor without saying anything for several seconds. Then he waved his hand dismissively. “Forget this idiot. Let’s go home.”

Yuri chose this moment to barge in and announce that he was going to the Four Continents Championship to show his support for another skater as well. This time it was Otabek.

Yakov was horrified. He went into a second rant. It wasn’t very different from the first one, because at that point of the evening he was too exhausted to come up with new words. Yakov had an odd relationship with Otabek, maybe because he blamed the Kazakh skater for Yuri’s exhibition skate, or it could’ve been because he saw the similarities between him and Yuuri, and worried that Yuri would become as obsessed with his friend as Victor was with Yuuri. At the same time, in comparison to Yuuri, Otabek must’ve looked like the nice, ideal friend.

“Come on, kid,” Yuuri said, turning away from the sight of the old coach about to completely lose it. “He’s obviously set on going on forever, so you don’t have to stand around and wait for him to finish.”

Yuri stared at him.

“Let’s go eat.”

“I’m not going to the Four Continents Championship because of you!” Yuri snapped.

“That’s a surprise,” Yuuri said sarcastically. “Well, you can stay here and listen to Yakov’s speech, if you’re so keen on it. Don’t forget to take notes.” He put a hand on Victor’s arm. “Come on, Snowflake, I found a place that –”

“Wait!” Yuri cut in. “I’m coming with you!”

“There’s only room for two on the bike.”

“Mila will take me there,” Yuri said. Mila was the one who took Yuri to and from practice. It really irritated Yuri that he had to be under constant supervision. “Tell me where it is.”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow and then gave an address.

“If that’s not a real address, I’ll make you regret it.”

Yuuri laughed. “Let’s go, Snowflake. Let’s see how long it takes Yuri to get there.”

 

They sat in a corner of the café, their eyes on each other. Yuuri ran a hand over Victor’s thigh. Victor rewarded him with an embarrassed look.

Yuuri leaned forward and kissed him, placing both hands on Victor’s thighs.

Whether by coincidence, or because there was a mirror near the entrance that Yuuri kept an eye on, Yuri showed up at their table just as the kiss got really underway. Yuri cleared his throat pointedly.

In no mood to please him, Yuuri gave himself another minute before releasing Victor. He’d actually caught Victor as he moved away just to keep going.

“You’re gross,” Yuri told them. “Can you leave each other alone for a couple of minutes?”

“No,” Yuuri said with an expression that challenged Yuri to fight back.

Yuri rolled his eyes and sat down at the table. “Let’s just eat and go home. Mila promised to come back and give me a lift.” He picked up the menu lying on the table in front of him and studied it.

Yuuri shifted his chair towards the table and leaned forward as nonchalantly as possible. “Are you spying for her?”

Yuri gave him a bewildered look over the top of the menu. “What? Why would I do that?”

“You didn’t argue with her,” Yuuri pointed out.

“I was too busy worrying about Beka, you moron!”

Yuuri sat back in his chair with his arms folded over his chest. “I’m not buying it.”

“I don’t care if you don’t believe me. If you don’t want to trust me, then don’t.” Yuri raised the menu higher, as if he was very interested in it, but Yuuri caught the way Yuri stared at him before he hid his face.

Yuuri studied him (or to be more accurate: the back of the menu) thoughtfully. “I trust you,” he said after a while.

The menu dropped out of Yuri’s fingers. “You do?”

“Yes. Victor, take a look outside. Are there pigs flying in the sky yet?”

Victor and Yuri exchanged a look. Yuri burst out laughing and Victor followed. Yuuri joined in last. The two Russians stopped and watched him laugh in surprise. It was a genuinely happy laugh and it caught everyone off guard, even Yuuri himself, who cut it off abruptly.

No one said anything for several minutes until Yuuri signalled a waiter to come over to them and all three skaters ordered their food as if nothing had happened.

 

When lunch was over Yuuri gave the Russian Yuri a mischievous smile. “Have you ever ridden a bike before?”

“Beka gave…” Yuri stopped. “Are you offering me a ride?”

Yuuri smirked at Victor. “It depends on Snowflake here. Will you get jealous?”

“N-no,” Victor stammered out, as shocked by Yuuri’s offer as the Russian Yuri was.

Yuuri stood up. “I’ll get Mila to take you home, Snowflake.” He tossed Victor’s helmet into Yuri’s hands. “Here you go.”

Yuuri stuck around long enough to make sure that Mila came to pick Victor up and to give her a meaningful look.

He climbed onto his bike and waited for Yuri to take the spot behind him. “I should probably warn you: unlike Otabek, I don’t pay attention to the speed limits.” He laughed and pulled on his helmet.

Yuri stood with the helmet in his hands. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I feel like it. Does there have to be a reason?”

Yuri climbed on behind him and gripped the seat with both hands.

“You’ll fall off, if you do that,” Yuuri warned. “You’ll have to hold on to me.”

Yuri grabbed his shoulders. “Fine. Why did I agree to this?”

But the only answer he got was laughter right before Yuuri sped off. They took a longer route home, going along the Neva River for part of it, avoiding all of the traffic in all kinds of illegal ways. Yuuri went so fast that they got there before Mila and Victor did.

Once Yuuri parked the bike Yuri handed him the helmet with the words, “Beka is a better driver.”

“Safer, you mean,” Yuuri responded, spinning his keys around in his hand. “Did he ever tell you why he’s not a cop anymore?”

“What?”

Yuuri smirked. “You mean he didn’t tell you he used to be a cop?”

“He –”

They were interrupted by the sounds of gunfire. Yuuri gripped the kid and dropped to the ground with him. Before he could do anything there was another burst of gunfire and he knew Mila had arrived. It didn’t take her long to take out their attackers.

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, running up to them.

Yuuri sat up. “I’m fine.” He nodded at the Russian Yuri. “What about you, kid?”

There was a small cut on the kid’s hand. He stared at it in surprise. “I think I hit something when you pulled me down.”

“Must’ve been this,” Yuuri said, holding up his keys. “Don’t cry, kid: Snowflake is good at bandaging cuts.”

“I’m not crying!” Yuri protested. He climbed to his feet. “It’s just a cut. I’ll be just fine!” He turned around and stormed into the building.

“What happened?” Mila asked, joining them.

“Nothing,” Yuuri said, throwing his keys up and catching them again. “Let’s go home, Snowflake.” He put an arm around Victor’s shoulders. “See you later, Mila.”

They went up to their apartment together. This time they didn’t bother with the elevator and just climbed the stairs side by side.

Yuuri caught Victor in a kiss against the door, before he could reach for the lock.

“Yuuri…” Victor whispered pulling away.

“Did you miss me?” Yuuri took in Victor’s expression and kissed him again. He fiddled with the door handle, realized it was locked and pulled his key out to unlock it and still his mouth was pressed against Victor’s. He didn’t break the kiss to unlock the door and just kept missing with his key.

Victor pulled away. “Yuuri!” he tried to protest.

“I got this,” Yuuri protested, unlocking the door at last.

Victor nearly fell in and Yuuri caught him, laughing. “Oy, kid! Why’d you lock the door?” he shouted, sliding his hand downwards and making a grab for Victor’s behind. Victor turned bright red.

Any minute now the kid would barge in and tell them how disgusting they were.

Except he didn’t.

“Where’s Yuri?” Victor asked, turning away.

Yuuri resisted the urge to say “right here”. “He must be sulking in his room. Isn’t that what all teenagers do?”

“Yuri!” Victor called and crossed the living room.

Yuri’s door was open. His room was empty.

Victor gave Yuuri a terrified look. “He’s gone.”

“What? How?” Yuuri barged in past him and stuck his head in Yuri’s room. Then he went around the apartment, looking in every single room.

Victor joined in the search, checking even under the tables, as if it was a game of hide and seek.

They reunited in the living room.

“He’s gone,” Victor said, giving Yuuri a terrified look. “Oh my God! They got him!”

Yuuri grabbed him by the arms. “Calm down! We –”

“Yuuri, you have to do something! You can save him, right?”

They stared at each other for several seconds.

_How the hell should I know?_ Yuuri thought. _He could be dead. He could be anywhere. I’m not God!_

But Victor was giving him a look that meant that he was sure that Yuuri could magically fix everything. He’d managed to find Victor when he was kidnapped and before they could hurt him too.

“I’ll find him,” he promised. _Otherwise Mila will kill me. But what will_ you _do if I don’t?_

 

Yuri had to watch that idiot walk by with Victor unable to make a sound or let them know in any other way that he was _right there_. He struggled in his captor’s arms, but it was a waste of effort. They’d gagged him and tied his arms behind his back. They would’ve taken him away too, but Yuuri and Victor were right there, so they retreated into a convenient corner and watched.

They were right there! _Oh God_! They were still right there, only a couple of steps away!

Yuri kicked out, but only succeeded in hurting himself.

_They’re going to kidnap me! I can’t believe it! They’re actually going to kidnap me! And then they’ll torture me and maybe even kill me!_ He swore. He went through every single swearword he knew and they all felt too weak. _What the hell do I do?_

His kidnappers waited for the door to close behind the two skaters before they pushed Yuri out of the apartment building and towards a car that was waiting for them.

The car looked like it took part in several fights itself.

_You bastards better come and save me,_ Yuri thought as he dropped into the back seat between two thugs, _or, so help me, I will return as a ghost and haunt you for the rest of your miserable lives!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A good question (I think) is: will I get to the end of this story before I have to go on hiatus for a couple of weeks? And right now I suspect the answer is no.


	33. I Owe You One

Yuri spent an eternity tied to a chair with his arms behind his back. People kept circling him. They all had expressions that could kill better than any gun. It was cold. Somewhere in another room someone was screaming maybe from the pain or maybe from fear. It was hard to tell.

The screams terrified him half to death, but there was no way he was going to let his captors know that.

Still they paced the room in front of him, making Yuri think of lions. This thought made him grin.

If only he knew how to fight! Then he could free himself, but he was a skater who was all too worried about his career.

What would Yuuri Katsuki do? He’d probably start with that tall blond guy, move on to the guy with the lisp, take out that annoying fat one in the corner and then stop and make some kind of sarcastic remark.

The screaming got louder and Yuri felt the terror that had abated at the thought of Yuuri Katsuki return.

Would they torture him for information? But what information? He didn’t know anything about Yuuri that wasn’t common knowledge already. His only secret was his involvement with gangs and these people obviously already knew about it. So he was only there as bait to catch Yuuri, which meant that it was best for Yuuri if he didn’t find him.

_I’m sure you can deal with these guys. Just hurry up and save me already!_

He wanted to go home, to lie on his bed next to his cat, Puma Tiger Scorpion, and only have the upcoming competitions to worry about. Sometimes in the night they’d snuggle up next to each other and – if Yuri really couldn’t sleep – watch old videos of other skaters’ performances. Quite a few of those were Yuuri’s.

“That bastard!” he exclaimed.

The thugs in the room turned to stare at him in surprise and then – one by one – they crumpled down to the ground. First the tall blond one, then the one with the lisp, followed by the fat one in the corner and, finally, the two other guys Yuri hadn’t noticed before.

Yuri stared with his mouth slightly open. A figure moved quickly from one man to the next, taking them out with a single sweep of the arm like someone cutting down long annoying stalks of grass. If cutting grass included groans of pain and the sound of bodies dropping to the ground.

The figure took out the last thug in the room and stepped up to Yuri.

“You called?” Yuuri Katsuki asked.

There was blood dripping from the knife in his hand and a terrifying smirk on his lips, but Yuri was so happy to see him he completely ignored how frightening his rescuer looked.

“Where the hell were you?”

“Yuri!” Suddenly Victor was there, untying his ropes.

Yuri wondered if Mila would appear out of nowhere as well.

“Yeah, you’re welcome, kid.” Yuuri rolled his eyes. “We would’ve gotten here faster if our tech guy wasn’t so obsessed with getting his beauty sleep.”

“Tech guy?”

Yuuri leaned against a pillar and studied his fingernails with a feigned interest. “We figured they’d try something like this, so we put a chip on you.” He looked up, saw Yuri open his mouth and added, “Oh, yeah, Victor, you’ve got one too.”

Yuri got up and rubbed his wrists. “You could’ve asked –”

Victor enveloped him in a hug.

“Oy! Get off me!”

“Yuri! I was so worried about you. Yuuri, come here,” Victor beckoned his pupil over with his hand.

“Oh no, hugging isn’t part of the rescuing service.”

A loud bang interrupted them before the rescue could get even mushier. Someone’s slow footsteps echoed down the hallway. Yuuri threw himself at both of them, dragging them behind a pillar. He tossed his knife on the floor and pulled out a gun. He aimed it at the doorway, peering out from behind the pillar.

The door flew off its hinges and the room filled with light, which was blocked out almost immediately by a man.

Yuuri prepared to fire.

The newcomer stepped forward and his face caught the light.

“Beka!” Yuri pushed everyone away and ran up to him. “You came to rescue me!”

“You’re welcome, kid,” Yuuri muttered.

Otabek embraced him and Yuri’s eyes widened as he felt the man’s heart beating fast against his own chest. “Someone called Mila to tell her you were kidnapped. I don’t know who it was and I don’t think she was going to tell me you were in trouble, but I…”

Yuuri stepped up to him. “You should’ve come. I have this under control.”

Otabek released Yuri and held his hand out to the other Yuuri. “Thank you.”

As he watched them shake hands Yuri couldn’t help but smile. It was stupid and he tried to suppress it, but the grin tugged at the corners of his mouth anyway.

“Great!” Victor exclaimed. “We should all get dinner together.”

“I think you mean breakfast,” Yuuri corrected him. “How are you this happy, anyway? We can be killed at any minute!”

“Don’t look at me,” Yuri said. “I don’t understand how his mind works either. But didn’t you say that he was your type?”

“Shut up, kid.” Yuuri smirked at Victor.

 

Mila Babicheva had three passions in her life: the first she took care to never talk about, the second was skating and the third was playing an elaborate game not unlike chess against everyone else. The main trick she prided herself in was that she could do it without losing any of her pawns. She only discarded them when it was more trouble to keep them than it was worth. And she knew how best to play them off each other to get what she wanted. But she always looked after her own.

So when someone from an unknown number called and told her that Yuri – _her_ Yuri, not the Japanese one – was in trouble she nearly panicked. Nearly.

She was checking up on Otabek in one of her safe houses when the call came through, but she temporarily forgot about him and probably said more than she should have.

“You’re sure?” she said in a controlled voice. “They have Yura?”

“Yes, of course I’m sure!”

She turned around just in time to see Otabek leave the room, banging the door closed behind him. Yuuri was right. No matter what happened, Otabek was still a cop at heart. The kind of cop who went out and made sure the kids were safe even when he was technically not on duty. She didn’t bother running after him to stop him. At least now she could talk to her informant alone.

“Thank you,” she said and really meant it. “I’ll take care of it. Are you safe?”

“Yes,” came the reply.

And Mila realized she’d run out of things to say. No, that was wrong: she’d run out of things she was willing to say. There was any number of things she could say, but she didn’t dare say any of them.

“Thank you,” she said again.

The caller wasn’t one of her pawns. This was information delivered voluntarily and at great personal risk.

“I owe you one,” she said.

There was laughter on the other end. “Meet me next week.”

“I… uh… I have a proposal – a business proposal for you,” she stumbled over her words for the first time in her life.

There was more merry laughter on the other end. “I’ll think about it. You _do_ realize who you’re talking to, right?”

Mila nodded, swallowed and said, “Yes.”

“Good. See you next week!”

The line went dead and Mila tried to understand her own feelings. There was fear, excitement, confusion, fear again, something else and fear once more.

The game board was changing. No, the game itself was changing and she wondered what the new rules would be.

And then she knew. In a word: exciting.

And yet she’d never been more terrified in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I wonder what this fic would sound like as an audiobook. Quite possibly recorded by me, but then I would have to keep a sarcastic tone the whole time. Or most of the time, anyway.


	34. Look at Me

The week of the Four Continents Championship arrived with a crackling of gunshots, swearwords and police sirens: Yuuri was letting himself go. He ran through the streets of Boston, laughing like mad and stopping occasionally at convenient corners to look out and see how his enemies were doing. He’d run into an old enemy of his who was so old-fashioned he’d greeted Yuuri with a bullet that missed the skater by inches.

Yuuri kept going, his mind working hard on an important problem: how to meet up with Victor without leading everyone there and getting both of them shot. He doubled back and then slipped into a discrete entrance and ended up in a club. Loud music blared from all sides. He walked carefully around the mass of dancing bodies and found Victor all alone in a corner, with a sad look on his face.

Yuuri’s hand trailed up Victor’s back and he leaned over his shoulder. “Do you have an appointment with misery for the whole evening, or can you make time for a handsome devil in your busy schedule?” These were the kind of words someone usually whispered into someone else’s ear, but the music was so loud that Yuuri had to shout them.

“Yuuri!” Victor straightened up in his chair.

“Lucky guess. Well, what do you think?”

“A-about what?”

Yuuri leaned in so that his lips were mere inches away from Victor’s cheek. “About anything. About going over there and showing them how to properly dance, or,” the tip of his nose touched Victor’s face, “we can do something else.”

Victor smiled innocently at Yuuri. “Are you inviting me to a dance?”

Yuuri straightened up and held out his hand. “A dance off, sure.”

They pushed their way through the crowd until they were somewhere in the middle of the dancing crowd. The music was much louder there and, even shouting, they couldn’t hear each other.

 

Victor smiled at the man dancing in front of him and got a smirk in return. Sweat glistened on his forehead. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes. Yuuri said something. Victor leaned forward to hear what it was and got a kiss in return. Victor caught Yuuri in an embrace.

They stood in the middle of a dancing crowd as a singer shouted at the top of her voice about dying young.

Suddenly the music cut off and everyone turned around in surprise, wondering what happened.

“Finally, I was starting to get a headache,” Yuuri muttered. Then he grabbed Victor and tried to push through the crowd.

“You can’t hide from me, you bastard!” someone shouted at the top of their voice.

“We’ll see about that,” Yuuri muttered.

“I have you surrounded!” the man screamed again. “If everyone ducks, I promise I will only kill the bastard I came here for.”

Around them people were dropping to the ground, covering their heads with their hands. Or some of them were, anyway. At least half of the people in the club pulled out their own guns.

“What -?” Victor began

Yuuri dragged him towards the exit faster. “Come on!”

They ran through a crowd of people who were trying to pick who or what to use for target practice. Victor felt his heart beat faster in his chest. Yuuri found a door and pulled them through the doorway. Victor stumbled up the stairs after Yuuri, feeling as if all of his blood had been replaced by adrenaline.

The stairway led to another door, which opened up onto a back alley. A motorcycle stood there.

Yuuri pulled his keys out of his pocket. “Let’s go.”

Victor trapped Yuuri against the wall in a kiss, catching him off guard. Yuuri responded, forgetting about the threat. His hands trailed up Victor’s back and Victor felt the motorcycle keys slide up with them. He pulled Yuuri in closer.

Yuuri broke the kiss and held up a hand between their faces. “Stop. They’re going to catch up with us any minute.” He looked up into Victor’s face. “You don’t care, do you?”

Victor blushed and looked away.

“We have about a minute,” Yuuri whispered. “Will you kiss me again?”

Victor released Yuuri and stepped back.

“Right. Well.” Yuuri looked disappointed. He laughed it off, but Victor could see it in his face as he climbed on the bike. “I guess we’ll live to see another day. Maybe.”

Victor got on behind him. “Sorry,” he said quietly.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Yuuri told him.

He drove off and Victor clung on affectionately.

Five minutes later they became aware of the fact that they were being pursued. The sound of gunfire was getting louder behind them.

“I can’t drive like this,” Yuuri admitted.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can you shift back a little?” Yuuri asked. “I can’t focus on the road.”

“S-sorry.” Victor moved back.

“If I wasn’t trying to keep us out of the range of their bullets, I wouldn’t have complained,” Yuuri said. “But those bastards are really keen on cutting off my skating career before I finally beat you and I’m going to need all of my concentration to not let them do that.”

“Who are they?”

“A rival gang back from my time in Detroit,” Yuuri said dismissively. “I didn’t realize they moved to Boston.”

 

“We lost him, boss,” a thug said to someone else on the phone. “We lost Yuuri Katsuki.”

“Of course you did. I knew you wouldn’t catch him. Did you at least get some photos?” a voice on the other end of the line asked. As dictated by story conventions, it was a mysterious-sounding voice that inspired fear in anyone who heard it. It also inspired the listener to run away and hide as quickly as possible.

“I got several photos, boss.” The thug refrained from getting into details. They didn’t look like photos someone could be blackmailed with, but he wasn’t going to tell the boss that.

His boss had a nasty temper and didn’t like it when people tried to lie to him, but most of all he didn’t like Yuuri Katsuki.

The thug smiled. His boss’s hatred was so strong, that his own hatred was like fondness in comparison.

Yuuri Katsuki was a dead man walking.

 

In a different city in a different part of the world entirely Sara Crispino sat in a picture book café across the table from Mila Babicheva. Both women were dressed for going out. Mila’s earrings caught the sunlight as she shifted forward in her chair. Sara placed her hands on the table as if to show off her bracelets.

A waiter arrived, bringing two ice creams and compliments for both ladies, compliments which they accepted absent-mindedly. As they ate they studied each other, trying to anticipate how the conversation will go.

Sara finished first and slid her cup out of her way. “I’ve listened to your offer,” she said, leaning forward again and joining her hands on the table, “but I’m not convinced.”

Mila smiled, a trace of ice cream on her lips. “You’re always a hard one to convince.”

Sara reached out and dabbed at Mila’s mouth with a napkin. “I come from a skeptical family, you know.”

 “So do I,” Mila said, slipping her hand over Sara’s.

Sara moved away and sat back in her chair. She looked around, as if suddenly interested in the buildings on either side of the street.

Mila sighed. “Sometimes I get really jealous,” she admitted.

“Oh?” That brought Sara’s attention back.

“Yes. Yuuri has no idea how lucky he is.”

“That’s because, unlike you, my dear, Yuuri doesn’t care if he doesn’t live until an old age.”

“You care about it too,” Mila pointed out.

Sara brought a clean napkin to her lips and then dropped it on the table. She stood up. “Well, I’m off. See you around.”

“See you…” Mila muttered.

She waited for Sara to leave, looked around to make sure no one was watching and picked up the napkin.

It had a lipstick imprint of Sara’s lips. Slowly Mila lifted it to her own mouth and pressed the imprint against her own lips.

Yuuri was very lucky, the bastard.

 

The lucky bastard burst into his and Victor’s hotel room, only one thought on his mind. His heart was still beating at a mad rate and he tossed his jacket aside, not caring if it made it onto the only chair in the room or not. He turned around to face Victor.

“Well?”

Victor lowered his eyes.

Yuuri stepped up to him and raised Victor’s chin. “You’re not going to avoid this. Not today.”

“I’m… uh, a little embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” Yuuri repeated in disbelief. “How long have we been going out for? And you’re _embarrassed_?”

“Barely three months,” Victor whispered in reply.

“What?”

“We’ve been going out for barely three months.”

Yuuri waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever. What are you embarrassed about?”

“I’m worried I’ll get carried away,” Victor whispered.

Yuuri stepped up to him. “This I have to see.”

“You’re competing tomorrow,” Victor reminded him. “As your coach I need to remember about –”

“Shut up. Forget tomorrow. We were nearly shot and killed. I don’t care about anything else but this right now.” He stepped closer. He expected Victor to back away, but Victor remained rooted to the spot. He also avoided eye contact with Yuuri. “Look at me,” Yuuri whispered.

Victor made eye contact with him at last. “I’m sorry,” he whispered back. He put his hands on Yuuri’s chest and pushed him towards the bed. Yuuri dropped onto it with a surprised look on his face.

_What the hell has gotten into you today?_

Victor kissed Yuuri’s neck just under his ear. “Yuuri…” His hands slid down over Yuuri’s chest.

_Damn it, Snowflake! You’ve knocked the breath right out of me and neither of us is even naked!_

“Yuuri, I feel horrible.”

“Oh great, that’s exactly what I want to hear right now,” Yuuri muttered, barely keeping himself under control. “Well, I’m willing to fix that just as soon as I figure out what exactly Victor Nikiforov’s plans are for tonight.”

Victor’s hands slipped under Yuuri’s shirt just as Yuuri realized that one of Victor’s legs was between his. “I’m a terrible person,” Victor went on.

“Oh yes, you definitely are,” Yuuri said sarcastically. “Slip your hands further down and I’ll tell you just how awful you are.”

“It’s so embarrassing… I’ve had all kinds of dirty thoughts about you during our ride here.”

_Seriously?_ This _is what you’re feeling guilty about?_ “I’m your boyfriend, in case you forgot! You can have as many dirty thoughts about me as you like.”

Victor raised his head and looked into Yuuri’s eyes. “R-really?”

“Yes,” Yuuri answered, his tone completely serious. “God knows how many dirty thoughts I’ve had about you.”

Victor blushed deeply.

“Right now, for example, I’m imagining what you will do once you finally _pull my clothes off_. Do you think it will be better in my head or in real life?”

Victor lowered his head and buried his face in Yuuri’s neck.

“And I’m also thinking about all those amazing things you can do with your mouth.”

“Yuuri…” He whispered, kissing Yuuri’s neck.

“And as much fun as this is, I’m also wondering if I should take charge after all.” He ran his hands up Victor’s backside. “What do you think, Snowflake?”

Victor’s fingers scrambled for the bottom of Yuuri’s shirt.

Yuuri went on as if nothing was happening, stopping only when Victor pulled his shirt over his head. “And I’m also thinking that I’d like a taste of you again.”

Victor undressed Yuuri without another word as Yuuri got more descriptive in what exactly he wanted to do. Yuuri watched Victor sit up and remove his own clothes frantically.

_Holy crap, Snowflake! I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you this eager before! And whatever happened to fainting at the merest suggestive comment? Actually, forget that. Whatever it is, let it go on happening._

In other circumstances he might have laughed or made a terrible joke about Victor, but he decided to get into a comfortable position instead. _If I start laughing now, we’ll never get through this._

Unfortunately for both of them, not laughing at Victor was a difficult task that evening.

“The bottle is almost empty,” Victor said in what was – Yuuri was impressed to note – an innocent tone of voice.

Yuuri tried not to imagine Victor in a store buying another one. But it was too late. He could picture Victor getting all flustered as he checked out and paid for it. And, as he worried over what the cashier would say, he or she would ask for his autograph and he’d get even more embarrassed as he remembered that he was the living legend. Or Yuuri could take Victor to the store with him and do something suggestive. Yuuri buried his face in the pillow to suppress his laughter.

“D-did I do something wrong?” Victor asked. “You’re trembling.”

Victor was lucky he couldn’t see the look on Yuuri’s face. Yuuri was unlucky that he couldn’t see the look on Victor’s. “I’m cold. Warm me up.”

Victor lay down on top of Yuuri, embracing him and completely missing the meaning behind Yuuri’s words (but succeeding in warming up Yuuri, at least).

“Are you warmer now?” he whispered.

“I’m impressed, Snowflake. If I had a hat on, I’d take it off to you right now.” _It will probably never cease to surprise me just how innocent you are._

“What? Is something wrong?”

Yuuri laughed. He reached out and caught Victor’s hand. “Never change, Snowflake.” He clutched Victor’s hand tightly and then slid it over his own stomach and further in the direction of his feet. “My dear coach,” he whispered, “will you give me a ride?”

_Don’t tell me that all that eagerness has evaporated!_

But five minutes later Yuuri could say with certainty – or not say, because he was out of breath – that the eagerness was still there.

“Victor!” he gasped, “Viten’ka!” _Talk about a ride! Have I ever made you feel this good, Snowflake?_

“Yurochka,” Victor whispered back.

Afterwards Yuuri laughed to himself about this, but at that moment his mind was focused on Victor’s body and not his words. Most of his attention was on Victor’s hands. He’d once told Victor to never take his hands off him when he was the one on top and promised he-didn’t-know-what horror if Victor didn’t listen to this. So Victor spent one educational night learning from Yuuri what exactly to do with his hands.

_If anyone were to surprise us like this and kill us – ah hell! Talk about a way to go!_

Victor finished and lay down next to Yuuri.

Yuuri turned and looked at him. “Did you enjoy the ride?”

Instead of an answer, Victor pulled him into a kiss. Yuuri turned them both over, so he’d end up on top.

After a while he whispered, “Well? What dirty thoughts have you had about me?”

Victor blushed. “I-I… uh… I don’t want to talk about them.”

“I’m not letting you off that easily. Come on, tell me.” He ran his hands up and down Victor’s back.

Victor covered his face with his hands. “No! No!”

Yuuri laughed. “Alright, in your own time, then. Do you want me to describe how I felt just now?”

Victor nodded, his hands still on his face.

“Turn over and I’ll show you.”

“I was thinking about your leather gloves!” Victor suddenly blurted out.

“Oh?” Yuuri was running his hands over Victor’s chest now. “Did you want me to pull them off?”

“No!”

“Or maybe you want to pull them off yourself and then wear them while I ride you?” Yuuri offered and slid his hands up to take Victor’s face in both of them.

“No!”

Yuuri sat up. “Well? What is it?”

Victor said something and covered his mouth with his hands.

“Only if you buy me a new pair afterwards,” Yuuri whispered into his ear. Now his hands were on Victor’s stomach with no plans to stay there.

“I-I wasn’t… I was just… You don’t have to…” Victor protested.

“But what if I want to?” Yuuri asked, raising an eyebrow. “What then? Will you push me away?”

Victor covered his face with his hands. “Y-Yuuri…” he gasped. “I… I think I will faint…”

“Why don’t we find out?” Yuuri’s hands stopped. “So will you buy me a new pair?”

“You can have anything you want,” Victor whispered.

“That’s a foolish promise,” Yuuri went on, deciding that what Victor really needed was a distraction.

“W-why?”

“Because what if I asked for something that you couldn’t give me right now?”

Victor puzzled over this. “Like what?” he asked after a while.

Yuuri shrugged. “I don’t know. An ice cream, for example.”

“Do you want an ice cream right now?” Victor smiled.

“No.” Yuuri pulled his hands away. “See? You didn’t faint.”

Victor wrapped his arms around Yuuri and pulled him down. “I –”

“I wasn’t finished,” Yuuri interrupted.


	35. I’m His Trophy Boyfriend

“Yuuri Katsuki, what is your relationship with your coach?” The press cornered him for the same old questions on the morning of the first day of the Four Continents Championship. Maybe they thought they were getting sensational news. Yuuri didn’t consider them sensational _or_ new.

“What do you think?” Yuuri asked, folding his arms over his chest. “I live in his apartment and we have a lot of sex. Why don’t you do the math?”

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed.

Yuuri turned to look at him. “Yes? And how would you describe it?”

Victor’s face was all red. “I… uh…” He fidgeted nervously as he realized how many people were waiting for his answer.

The press leaned forward in anticipation and held out several microphones. Yuuri found a convenient pillar to lean against. This could take a while so he decided to get comfortable.

“I’m Yuuri’s boyfriend.” The words came out at last. Victor beamed at the press, the blush still on his cheeks as he joined his hands. “I’m his trophy boyfriend.”

“Well done.” Yuuri clapped slowly. “Very well done.”

Victor stared at him.

“C’mere.”

“Y-Yuuri, I… uh…”

_Oh God, he’s going to confess again. I can’t help feeling like it’s some sort of compulsion._ He caught Victor just as his lips formed the right shape for the first syllable and kissed him.

Cameras flashed. People exclaimed something excitedly. Someone even applauded. He’d caught Victor at a slightly awkward angle, his arms on the waist of the living legend. Victor froze with his hands in the air before lowering them at last onto Yuuri’s back.

When Yuuri pulled away he could see by Victor’s face that he’d forgotten about the press completely.

“I’m going to beat your world record,” he promised and then his face split in a mischievous grin, “but first I’m going to heat up the ice a little with the Eros routine. Will you watch me skate, coach?”

“Uh, yes… yes, of course!”

Yuuri released him. He made a show of adjusting his leather jacket. Then he gave the press a serious look. “I’m going to win gold. Don’t even waste your energy doubting it.” He walked off, pausing only to wait for Victor to come to his senses and catch up to him.

 

“Yuuri Katsuki, accept no substitutes,” Mila muttered, toasting the TV with her glass.

She sat on the couch in her living room, watching the press conference with Sara by her side.

The photo of the kiss, by a strange coincidence, matched one of the most famous photos of a kiss (that of a sailor kissing a nurse) and flew around the world in under five minutes.

“He really is something, isn’t he?” Sara added with just a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

They waited patiently for the Four Continents Championship to start. Mila put the glass down on a table and fiddled absently with a gun in the pocket of her dressing gown. Sara snuggled over closer to her. She only had a shirt on.

“How is business these days?” she whispered quietly.

“Horrible. Just when I get the damn routes to my satisfaction, everything falls apart again.” She sighed and pulled her hand out of her pocket. “I didn’t think you’d come today.”

Sara smiled. “It was worth it, though.”

“It was,” Mila agreed. “I’m just not used to feeling so vulnerable.” She took Sara’s face in her hands. “What will your brother think if he finds out?”

“Screw him,” Sara replied, shrugging her shoulders.

“I’d rather not.”

Sara laughed and kissed Mila. “Do we really need to watch the testosterone battle? Why don’t you catch it later online?”

Mila pulled her fingers through Sara’s hair, remembering how beautiful it looked as it tumbled out of her ponytail to fall around her shoulders.

“I like the feeling of suspense I get when I watch it. By the time it’s online I’ll know who won.”

“Is that why you like me? The feeling of suspense?”

Mila laughed. “That’s not the only reason, but… doesn’t it excite you just thinking about what could happen if we’re found out?”

“I know what will happen. My parents will kill you. Your parents will kill me.” Sara tapped Mila lightly on the nose. “It’s kind of obvious when you’re in love with the leader of a rival gang.”

Mila laughed at this and kissed her again. “I was so terrified at first, but I can see what the boys find so appealing about this now.”

Sara’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Makes you feel alive, doesn’t it?”

“But tell me,” Mila whispered and kissed Sara’s neck, “do you _really_ not know who’s behind it all? I have so many boys to protect and I’m kind of sick of playing their nanny all the time.”

Sara’s lips brushed against Mila’s ear. “I really, really don’t know, my dear.”

 

“My dear _coach_ ,” Yuuri said as he headed for the change room, “do you think you could help me with my skating outfit?” He stopped in the hallway and turned around. “I’m just so embarrassed after you kissed me that I can’t do anything!” He watched Victor’s face to see whether he understood.

“Yuuri, of course I’ll help!” _Captain Oblivious strikes again! I really need to teach you how to tell if someone is sarcastic._

“Alright, be that way.” Yuuri shrugged.

The change room was full of skaters preparing to compete. Yuuri nodded at Phichit and found a free spot.

Victor stepped up to him and unzipped his jacket.

“I was joking! And, besides, we’re not in the bedroom. You don’t have to undress me,” Yuuri said, catching Victor’s hand.

“I want to,” Victor whispered, freeing his hand gently.

Yuuri raised an eyebrow, but refrained from comment.

Yuuri’s outfit was open at the back, which didn’t make it easy to put on, but he’d never needed someone else’s help. If anything, Victor made it harder. Yuuri found him very distracting. Once he finished he stood behind Yuuri, sliding his fingers over his shoulders as if straightening it out. Yuuri rolled his eyes.

“Don’t get carried away. I need to go out on the ice and skate first.”

Victor’s hands were on his shoulder blades now. Yuuri closed his eyes. Victor pulled them away and embraced Yuuri. “I-I’m having dirty thoughts about you again,” he whispered into Yuuri’s ear.

Yuuri looked up into his coach’s face, turning his neck at an awkward angle. “I want to know all about them.”

Instead of the blush Yuuri expected to see, there was a smile on Victor’s face. “I’ll tell you after you skate.” And then he blushed.

Yuuri laughed and elbowed him lightly.

Despite all the sexual tension, Yuuri could see Victor was trying to be a model coach, or what he considered to be one, anyway. And despite Yuuri’s words to the press, despite his confidence, Victor gave him the standard you-can-do-it-I-know-you-can speech.

Yuuri tuned it out. He studied the other people in the room instead.

With the exception of Victor and the Russian Yuri (who was deep in a conversation with Otabek on the other side of the room), the skaters in the room were a good representation of all the continents which weren’t Europe. Leo and Guang Hong waved at him from where they were talking to each other and Yuuri had a thought he’d had many times before: _You are two of the best gunmen with a reputation to uphold, why are you acting like excited teenagers at a party?_

Was Victor still talking? Yes. Of course, he was.

Yuuri turned to face him. “I think I’m going to do some warm-ups,” he cut in.

Victor nodded and then did the very important coach duty of standing around and watching his pupil

“Might as well make yourself useful,” Yuuri said ten minutes later, taking Victor by the shoulders and using him for support instead of a wall.

“Y-Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed exactly as Yuuri prepared to hear it.

_Alright, let’s go through the routine._

_Step 1: Exclaim my name._

_Step 2: Blush._

_Step 3: Flail as you realize that you don’t mind and don’t know how to tell me._

_Step 4: I laugh at everything and make innuendos._

_Ready?_

But Victor didn’t bother getting to step 3. He remained as still as he could and said nothing.

Phichit joined them not long after. “You know there’s one down the hall.”

“What?” Yuuri demanded.

“A room.”

Yuuri resisted the urge to roll his eyes and continued stretching as if Phichit wasn’t there. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

By an odd coincidence Yuuri was set to go after Phichit, but before Otabek. He found Yuri talking to Otabek in the corridor as he headed to the ice rink with Victor at his side.

Yuri turned to face them as soon as he heard them coming.

_I don’t have time for a fight right now, kid._

The Russian skater exchanged a glance with Otabek and marched over to Yuuri. “Good luck,” he said, and held out his fist.

Yuuri hit it with his own. Then he gave Otabek an impassive look. “Good luck getting second place.”

He walked away before anyone could react to his words.

Unfortunately there was no way to avoid walking past Phichit, so he braced himself for more words of encouragement.

“Good luck, Yuuri,” Phichit said with a smile.

“I don’t need luck,” Yuuri told him. _Honestly, what is it with everyone today? This isn’t my first competition, you know!_ He exited onto the ice and then turned around to find his coach.

Victor had his innocent expression on his face, Yuuri’s skate guards clutched under one arm and a water bottle under the other. _Still trying to be a model coach, hm? You definitely have the full coaching kit! What the hell was all that about dirty thoughts, anyway?_

Yuuri smirked and watched Victor blush. He reached for the bottle of water. “Do you have your handkerchief ready?”

Victor caught his outstretched hand and brought it to his lips. “I love you.”

_Here’s a new drinking game: take a drink whenever Victor confesses._ He studied the innocent expression on his coach’s face. “Is this how you’re preparing me to skate Eros?”

But before Victor could answer, Yuuri reached out with both hands and pulled them through Victor’s hair, ruffling it. “I hope Yakov is watching this on TV,” he said and smirked at one of the cameras. “You’ve got that look now.”

“What look?” Victor asked, trying to flatten his hair down.

Yuuri smirked. “That morning bedhead look after we’ve had a good night together.” The smirk on his face widened. “It’s a good look. You’re just missing the blush – and there it is.”

Victor opened and closed his mouth, unable to form a single word.

Yuuri waited for him to calm down just in case he fainted again and skated off to assume his initial position. The music started and he made a suggestive gesture at Victor. The now calm expression on Victor’s face didn’t change and Yuuri realized that his coach didn’t know what it meant.

_There’s an interesting conversation for later on. I wonder if he will faint when I explain it._

As he skated he thought of what he’d received that morning. Someone had tossed a letter under the door, although calling it a letter was a bit of stretch: even though it was in an envelope, it was only one sentence long.

_Compete today and you die._

It had made Yuuri laugh darkly as he crumpled it and threw it out. He didn’t say anything to Victor who was in the bathroom at the time.

No one could stop him. No one could tell him what to do. Not Victor, not anyone else. He wasn’t going to let them.

This time he was playful Eros. He passed by Victor and gave him a wink that made his coach clutch at his chest as the blood rushed to his face. It seemed that no matter how much time passed, winks would still work on the skating legend.

Somewhere Yakov was watching and having a fit, he was sure of it. _I have your pupil wrapped around my little finger and there’s nothing you can do about it. Even I can’t do a thing about it._

He made the skate as suggestive as he could, refraining from making any more gestures. He knew now Victor wouldn’t understand them, but he didn’t need them anyway. It seemed that each time he passed Victor his face was redder.

Memories of the night before dropped in on him like uninvited guests and not just any uninvited guests, but the kind of wild guests that drank a lot and forced you to join in. Now _he_ was feeling flustered and he needed to keep his thoughts under control.

He nearly flubbed a jump and the possibility knocked him into a more serious state of mind.

Someone had threatened him so he kept an eye out for trouble, forgetting about the short program enough to skate it on a kind of autopilot. The music ended and he cursed himself. What the hell was that?

He turned around and saw that the model coach was not happy.

_Here we go._ Yuuri headed for the kiss and cry.

“Yuuri, what happened in the second half?” Victor asked. “You barely landed the triple axle, but everything after that was horrible! What happened to Eros?” He went on and Yuuri pretended to listen while looking around.

“I can see you’re not listening to me,” Victor said.

Yuuri gave him an impassive look. “You’re right. Let’s get my scores and go somewhere safe.”

“Safe?” Victor echoed.

“Never mind, I –”

Victor caught him by the hands. “What happened? Did you see something in the crowd?”

“No,” Yuuri lied, “I was just being paranoid.”

“Was that sarcasm?” Victor asked, catching Yuuri off guard.

“Er… no. No, it wasn’t.”

They were interrupted by the commentator reading out the scores. Yuuri placed second after Jean-Jacques and just ahead of Seung-Gil.

Seung-Gil Lee was another dark horse. According to the rumours he worked for the Crispino family. The very same Crispino family that was stuck in a long feud with Mila. Technically, Mila was in a fight with them, since she kept trying to take over their territory. They’d sent Seung-Gil after her once, but he returned empty-handed.

Or so some rumours had it.

Other rumours claimed she’d paid him off and some were bold enough to suggest that he worked for her now.

Yuuri steered clear of Seung-Gil and the whole Crispino family. He didn’t care about what was going on and couldn’t understand why Mila and Sara appeared together from time to time, pretending to be friends. Was it a cover-up for the fight between their families?

 

Mila and Sara, not knowing that Yuuri was thinking about them at that very moment found something more interesting than the skating competition: each other.

The couch wasn’t comfortable, but neither of them cared. Mila’s dressing gown lay on the floor under Sara’s shirt, while Mila herself sat on top of Sara.

Sara’s hand reached out while she kissed Mila passionately and felt around for the gun on the floor. She snatched it up and swung it round to stick it in Mila’s chest.

“Imagine what I’ll get if I pull the trigger now,” she whispered as Mila pulled away in shock. “How happy mother will be to know the Russian Thorn is dead!”

Mila sat down on Sara’s legs and laughed.

Sara laughed as well and tossed the gun aside. “Wasn’t I convincing enough?”

“Almost. Your smile gave you away,” Mila said, leaning over Sara again.

“Your face was just so funny!”

Mila pulled a hand through her hair. “Had to play along, didn’t I?”

“No, I think that for one second you actually bought it.”

Mila slid her hands up Sara’s arms. “Maybe I did.” She grinned mischievously.

“Tell me again: when did you fall in love with me?”

“Two years ago.”

“And it took you this long to tell me. Why now?”

Mila kissed Sara’s cheek. “It was something Yuuri said once.” She caught Sara in a tight embrace and whispered into her ear, “You only live once.”

 

Otabek had just finished skating when Victor’s phone rang. Yuuri, who’d been holding Victor in a tight embrace up until that moment, released his coach and pulled the phone out of his pocket.

“Yuuri, I –”

But Yuuri wasn’t planning on answering it himself. He accepted the call and pressed it to Victor’s ear.

The voice on the other end was loud enough for people within a radius of 5 meters to hear.

“What are you all playing at? Do you think all of this attention from the press is a good idea? Do you think you need the publicity? Who do you think you are? Actors?” and so on along those lines.

Yuuri leaned towards the phone, still keeping it at Victor’s ear, and told Yakov in Russian just what he could do with his opinion.

Victor gave him a shocked look.

“I agree,” a voice cut in and they saw Yuri walk up to them with Otabek at his side. “He called me earlier with the same complaint. Why can’t he leave us alone?”

“He’s worried,” Otabek tried to explain.

“He’s also still on the line,” Yuuri pointed out with s smirk.

Victor took Yuuri’s hand and moved it so that the phone was next to Yuuri’s ear. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Good for him.” Yuuri ended the call and returned the phone to Victor’s pocket. “I don’t care what the press writes about me. What about you?”

Victor lowered his eyes. “I-I don’t care either…” he said in a half-whisper.

_I bet you do,_ Yuuri thought. _Wasn’t there something a year ago about us that upset you? It was when you just became my coach._ He tried to remember the details, but they refused to be remembered. “Whatever. Let’s go eat.”

 

The four skaters sat together, united in their hatred for (or, in Victor’s case, frustration with) Yakov. They didn’t talk about him, but they all knew they were thinking the same thing.

Maybe it was selfish of Yuuri to tear his coach away from his preparation for the European Championship, but he was damned if he was going to do what Yakov wanted. He could also tell by Victor’s expression, even if he did stand with his head lowered every time Yakov yelled at him (in person or over the phone), that he wasn’t going to be swayed on the subject either.

No one said anything during the dinner, as if they were all waiting for someone else to start and yet no one wanted to be that person. The silence went on until they finished and even all the way back to the hotel. The goodbyes were said without enthusiasm as if none of them liked to break the silence for something so insignificant.

 

Victor sat on the bed in his bathrobe, looking clean and innocent and reminding Yuuri of that night in Barcelona when they had a fight. The only real fight they’d had so far.

There was a smile on his face as he fiddled with the ties on his bathrobe. He was humming something under his breath.

Yuuri sat down next to him, startling Victor and making him raise his eyes. He shifted closer and put one hand on Victor’s knee and wrapped the other around him. He felt Victor press his lips against his own and he knew he’d kill anyone who got in his way now. Victor reclined on the bed, taking Yuuri with him.

After several minutes Yuuri pulled away and sat up. There was that look on Victor’s face and Yuuri tossed his clothes aside impatiently.

“Do you think I can be as eager as you?” he joked.

There was that innocence in Victor’s face again.

Three hours later he remembered it as he stared down at his bloodied hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter is good proof that I could easily make this a 200k fic.  
> Also, anyone have a cloning machine? I have too many fics to write.


	36. Oh God! Oh God!

Victor woke up from a strange noise, but before his brain could work out what it had been or even ask the old “are my eyes closed or am I in the dark?” question he heard Yuuri say:

“Ah, hell! Now look what you’ve done! I told you I’ll make you pay if you woke up my boyfriend.”

Victor sat up. It was dark in their hotel room and he felt around, trying to reach for a light switch. There was the smell of something metallic in the air.

“Don’t!” Yuuri exclaimed. “If you’re about to turn the lights on: don’t.”

“Why not?” He stopped, his hand on the bedside table.

“Because then you’ll see something you’d rather not.”

“What is it?” He was terrified now.

Yuuri sighed. “I caught an intruder in our room. He’s been really silent all this time, unfortunately for him.” There was the sound of something hitting something else. “You remember who you’re working for yet?”

“No!”

“Shame.” Yuuri’s voice was calm, as if it was the answer he’d been expecting.

There was a grunt and then a sigh.

“I need to do some cleaning up. Go back to sleep, Snowflake.”

“Do you want me to help you?”

Yuuri chuckled. “You really are innocent, aren’t you?” Victor heard him walk across the room and felt Yuuri’s hand press down on his chest. “Don’t worry about it,” Yuuri whispered into his ear, laying him down on the bed. “Let me tuck you in, Snowflake. Sweet dreams and all that.” He covered Victor with the blanket, first searching around for it in the dark with his hands (or at least that’s what Victor thought he was doing, blushing at Yuuri’s touch).

 

As Yuuri washed the blood off his hands he couldn’t help thinking how odd it was that life had put in one bed a stone-cold killer and an innocent love-struck man. This exercise in compare and contrast gave him a feeling he couldn’t identify.

He raised his eyes and glared at his reflection in the mirror. “What did Victor see in him?” was a question that rarely occurred to him, if, of course, the question “why did Victor fall in love with him?” could be considered a different question. Answers that included a commentary on Yuuri’s looks didn’t count.

There was that feeling again, accompanied by a whole lot of strange thoughts. Thoughts like “you should’ve never let it get this far” or “if you really cared about him, you would’ve found a new coach for yourself” and, of course, the last one “not these thoughts again”. He tossed his jacket off in frustration, then the rest of his clothes and joined Victor under the blankets.

 

Guilt. It was guilt. He stood next to Victor as they waited for his turn and he felt it overwhelm him again.

_Ah, yes. Well it’s just as they say, isn’t it? There’s always regret afterwards when it’s too late._

_Screw this! I know a better way to spend my time._ He threw a sly look at Victor and waited for the right moment.

“Is something wrong, Yuuri?” Victor asked in a whisper. “Only you look really worried –” He jumped up the instant he felt Yuuri grab his behind. “Ah! I… ah! Yuuri!”

Yuuri laughed. “Don’t worry about me, Snowflake. Worry what they’ll write in the news about us, if I can’t keep myself under control.”

Victor blushed, his eyes lowered. “It’s almost your turn, Yuuri.”

“Oh, good. The sense of anticipation was killing me.”

They headed for the ice rink and Yuuri wondered if anyone had caught them on camera when he’d made a grab for Victor (it later turned out that they hadn’t, but even if they’d had, that image was nothing in comparison to the one that _had_ made it out to the media).

_If I’d been a proper, decent person, like my parents think I am, no doubt we wouldn’t be in any of this. You’d be my coach and I’d be over the moon about it. Probably._ He smirked. _Who knows? I could’ve been your fanboy in earnest! And then I would’ve been the one to drool over you. God, I wonder how that would’ve went._ He racked his brains, trying to imagine that. _Twice as much blushing, probably, and no sex. Or, in two words: really boring._

He went out onto the ice and then circled around back to Victor. “Well, coach, can I still do it?” he asked sarcastically. “Do you still believe in me and all that nonsense?”

Victor put his hands over Yuuri’s. He was still blushing and struggling for words.

_Flustered again, I see._ “Well, don’t get your underwear in a twist, I’ll be back soon and you can tell me all that then.” _It will have the same effect said before or after, in any case._

He pulled his hands away and skated to the middle of the ice rink.

“I love you, Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed after him.

Yuuri spun around. _Ah, yes, what can be better than a you-can-do-it speech, but another confession? The words of encouragement that actually work!_ He blew a kiss and watched Victor blush deeper.

“We love you, Yuuri!” a group of fans shouted and more of them picked up the shout.

_Nice try._ Would they disqualify him, if he flipped the audience off? He decided this wasn’t the time to find out. Instead, he made a suggestive bite at Victor.

_Yuuri Katsuki, accept no substitutes, because there is only one of me and no one else comes even close._

The music started playing and he went through his free skate, pouring out as much sarcasm as he could in a never-ending torrent that had to be dense enough to make it through to the audience (and quite possibly push them off their feet).

Again he thought about what an odd pair they made with Victor. _I can enjoy a good joke and if our situation is only that, then – ah hell – it better have a good punchline, is all I can say._

He jumped the first quad of his program, landed it flawlessly and blew another kiss at Victor as he passed by him.

_I grew up chasing your shadow, but what did you think about as you grew up? Did you expect a Prince Charming to come save you from your high tower and take you away on his white horse?_

He came out of a spin and caught Victor’s eye.

_Because what you got instead was a Handsome Devil, an utter bastard, on a motorcycle, turning your world inside out as he rides by. And you couldn’t even get a white motorcycle._

 

Victor watched his pupil skate, his hand over his heart. By a strange coincidence his thoughts ran along similar lines to Yuuri’s.

People had tried to get Victor’s attention before. He was one of the top skaters and he did some modelling work on the side, so he got lots of fanmail. Not all of it was pleasant and one time Victor was so traumatized by the amount of hate he got that Yakov arranged for someone to go through it before Victor read it. Whether by accident or not, it was also around the same time that his training schedule got more intense. He was fifteen at the time. He never got a chance to see any fanmail since then.

He’d grown up with books, of course, and often fantasized about meeting the love of his life. Had he expected them to save his life? Yes, he actually did. Had he expected they would also be a skater? Maybe. And had he expected that they would become his pupil, his boyfriend and his rival all wrapped up in one body too good-looking for words and often clad in leather? No, no he hadn’t.

He watched Yuuri, trying to catch his eye, telling himself over and over again how lucky he was, wondering what he’d done to deserve such bliss. The fact that this so-called bliss came in the same package as gang fights, death threats and proximity to some of the most dangerous people on Earth didn’t even occur to him.

It was bliss. Of course it was. What else could it be?

Yuuri was flawless on the ice. Sarcastic or not, he pulled of the free program better than he’d ever done before. He froze in his final position, facing Victor, a triumphant smile on his face.

Victor’s heart raced and for a second he wished there hadn’t been an audience, or judges, or cameras, and that Yuuri had skated only for him. It was a selfish thought and he felt guilty about it.

He watched his pupil leave the ice, wanting to touch him. Every time he thought he couldn’t love Yuuri more, he felt the boy draw him in further.

_I’ll do it, if he breaks the world record,_ he promised himself.

 

“…He’s beaten the world record just set by his coach, Victor Nikiforov!”

_And once again by less than 0.2 points,_ Yuuri added mentally.

He turned around and put his foot on Victor’s lap with a raised eyebrow. “I know you want to.”

Victor lowered the foot of the world record holder in men’s figure skating for both the short program and the free skate carefully. “Can you stand up, Yuuri?” He rose to his feet.

“Why?” But Victor was holding out his hands and Yuuri took them anyway. He pulled himself up and opened his mouth for a sarcastic comment.

Victor freed his hands and moved to stand closer to Yuuri.

_What is this? A commemorative photo? Will you be reaching for your phone next?_

But Victor was reaching for something else.

Yuuri turned to give him a look of surprise. “Did you just -?”

“I’m sorry!” Victor exclaimed, snatching his hand away. “I thought… I thought… If you broke the world record, I thought I would…” He stuttered to a halt, unable to continue as if he’d hit a dead end.

“No, no,” Yuuri said, stepping closer, “you want to grab my ass: go for it.”

“Oh god!” This time Victor’s hands were on his face. “I can’t believe I just did that! Oh god!”

“You know it’s all yours, anyway,” Yuuri said in a dangerous tone of voice. _You’re really getting it tonight, Snowflake! I’m going to spend some quality time between those thighs of yours._

“Oh _god_!” Victor was almost wailing.

“Although, I am surprised you did that on live TV.” Surprised and _pleased,_ he had to admit.

“Oh god! Oh god!” Victor was really freaking out now.

“I can see the headlines from here.”

“ _Oh my god_!”

He paused, wondering if Victor would faint, and then went on, deciding that Victor really needed to hear this. “Coach Victor Getting a Piece of Yuuri’s Fine –”

“Yuuri, _please_!” Victor begged.

“Yeah, so you said last night.”

He still wasn’t fainting, oddly enough. “If you beat my record, I’ll grab yours on camera.” He stepped closer. “Actually, that will be boring. I’ll have to think of something better, or _worse_.”

Victor stepped back, his face red and his hands raised just in case he would need to hide behind them again.

“Any requests?” Yuuri asked.

“Yeah, get a room!” a voice cut in.

Yuuri turned around to see the Russian Yuri glaring at him. Yuuri let his gaze slide over the skater’s angry face as if he was just background detail and turned back to study the expression on Victor’s face. After several seconds he took him by the hands.

“Breathe, coach, deep breaths.”

Victor opened his mouth and breathed.

Once his face was its usual colour (arguably, red _was_ its usual colour, but Yuuri wasn’t aiming for a red face this time), Yuuri pulled him out of the kiss and cry to watch Jean-Jacques get his scores.

It didn’t take long, the judges, regardless of what the commentator wanted, didn’t beat about the bush and posted them.

Yuuri won. It was his first gold in the Four Continents Championship and, like Yuuri, it was waiting for the living legend’s kiss. He turned to smirk at Victor as the judge announced the medallists.

“Well, Snowflake –”

Mila picked that moment to rain on their parade. Yuuri pulled out his phone and promised himself to text her the swearwords he wasn’t going to say in front of Victor.

“What?”

“And hello and congratulations to you too, Yuuri!” she said brightly.

“Yeah, yeah, what do you want?”

“Something has come up. Can you take care of our Yuri for a week? Otabek has something he needs to do for his family.” In Mila’s convoluted code “family” almost always meant her. He tensed, wondering if that meant that someone was listening in on their conversation.

“Listen, if you think –”

“You can spoil him: take him for ice cream and hot chocolate. He’ll love that.” Once, on a really dangerous assignment for Mila, ice cream and hot chocolate stood for illegal substances he had to sneak in. He tried not to remember that assignment now. He wondered if that was Otabek’s next mission and remembered that Otabek used to be a cop. Maybe not.

Yuuri rolled his eyes and gripped Victor’s hand. “Yeah, and I’ll make sure to tuck him into bed and read him a bedtime story.”

“I’m glad you understand me so well,” she said and he wished he could strangle her. “Wish your coach luck from me in the European Championships,” she added and rang off.

_Damn!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m hoping I’ll get a chance to post one more chapter before I go on hiatus.


	37. You Don’t Understand!

Victor insisted on visiting his aunt the day they returned to St. Petersburg and so Yuuri went off to borrow a car for the three of them to take to her place. Yuri wondered who he’d borrowed it from.

“I thought you only drove motorcycles,” Yuri said, climbing into the back.

“I can drive almost anything.” His eyes flickered to Victor’s face, but his coach didn’t catch the innuendo. “I flew a helicopter once.”

“You flew a helicopter?” Victor exclaimed in that nauseating tone that made Yuri roll his eyes.

“Well, the pilot was unconscious. It was either that or die.” Yuuri said, waving a hand dismissively. “Lucky for me I’d watched him for most of the flight and had someone talk me through the flight.” He motioned Victor to get into the car and climbed into the driver’s seat.

It was disgusting, watching the looks they exchanged during the drive, as if they forgot there was an unwilling witness, or, which as more likely, as if they didn’t care who saw them. But mostly Yuri was frustrated with the fact that he had to go visit Victor’s old aunt. He was also frustrated with Yuuri for not arguing with Victor when he’d suggested it. It was almost as if he _wanted_ to go visit a boring old lady!

He caught the smirk on Yuuri’s face when they climbed the stairs to her apartment and thought he understood. _Ah! So you’re not just agreeing blindly! You have some kind of plan! I knew it!_

Yuuri leaned casually against a wall as Victor rang the doorbell. Yuri wondered if he could sneak off without anyone noticing.

The door flew open and Victor’s aunt ran out. She grabbed Victor and kissed him on both cheeks. Yuri edged away, but the Japanese Yuuri held out an arm to keep him from going anywhere.

After at least ten enthusiastic kisses the aunt released Victor and her eye fell on Yuri. She greeted him with a burst of excitement, and hugged and kissed him as if he was her nephew as well.

 _Ugh! Gross! Let me go, stupid old lady! I’m not Victor._ Yuri shuddered, but didn’t dare say anything.

Yuuri chuckled, “I’m her favourite.”

The aunt marched up to him and gave him a big smack on the arm.

“Что ты с моим племянником сделал?” she demanded in Russian. _What did you do to my nephew?_

“Did she run out of kisses?” Yuuri asked sarcastically.

Yuri translated what she’d said while Victor blushed and stuttered, hiding his face in his hands.

To everyone’s surprise, Yuuri stepped forward with his arms outspread and caught the aunt in an embrace. “Соскучилась по мне, старуха?” he asked her in Russian. _Did you miss me, old lady?_

 _Why did I bother translating, if he can speak Russian?_ Yuri wondered.

Yuuri released her and she pulled him inside by the arm. Victor and Yuri exchanged a look and followed. She pulled him all the way to her kitchen where she stopped in front of the table and pointed to the newspaper spread out on it.

“Что это такое, а?” she demanded. _What is this, huh?_

They stared down at a two-page spread of the photo that had scandalized the whole skating world. The photo that had resulted in several fights already (some of them between Yuuri’s and Victor’s fans). The photo that was probably the most discussed photo since, well whatever had been the last really scandalous photo.

Victor blushed and looked at Yuuri, as if expecting him to give an explanation.

Yuuri chuckled. “Oh this? I thought she was talking about something serious.” The aunt gave him a look and the smile on his face spread wider. “Не волнуйся - он только трогает то, что ему принадлежит.” _Don’t worry, he’s only touching what belongs to him._

Everyone in the room, with the exception of Yuuri, blushed at those words, even the aunt.

“Ах, ты бесстыжий!” _You shamless man!_ She hit him again. “Будешь готовить и накрывать на стол сам!” _You’re going to cook and set the table yourself!_

Yuri stared at the Japanese Yuuri in disbelief, waiting to see what his reaction to this would be, but Victor cut in before he could say anything, offering to do everything himself.

The aunt tried to argue, but Victor insisted. He refused to be budged on the question.

Yuuri interrupted to tell the aunt he had something to say to her in private. They left the room together, eyeing each other like two boxers before a match.

Victor watched them go with a worried look on his face.

The door closed behind them.

He sighed and rose to his feet.

Yuri sat down at the kitchen table as Victor went through his aunt’s fridge and pulled out various ingredients. “You care a lot about them getting along, don’t you?” he said suddenly.

“Of course!” Victor said.

Whatever Victor’s aunt and Yuuri were talking about, they were doing so really quietly. Yuri wondered if it was a good idea to slip out to try to eavesdrop, but they returned before he could make up his mind.

The aunt had her eyes on Yuuri as they walked back in. Yuri noticed that she kept an eye on him for the rest of the evening, as if evaluating everything that he did.

Yuuri had a serious expression on his face as he sat down at the table. Victor’s aunt set the kitchen table for them, putting Yuuri’s plate and cutlery down for him first. To Yuri’s surprise she patted the Japanese skater on the shoulder. His eyes were on his hands and he acted as if he didn’t notice the attention she was giving him.

The aunt took the newspaper away, shaking her head at the article.

 

Yuuri didn’t realize he wasn’t paying any attention to his surroundings until he saw Victor drop into the seat next to him. Lunch was on the table and he ate it, trying not to think of his conversation with Victor’s aunt. He’d surprised himself when he confided in Aunt Liuda. But, then again, he knew what he’d told her was something he’d decided somewhere deep down.

And yet it was one thing to decide on something in your mind and another to share your decision with someone else and realize that saying it meant that a promise had been made. Because a promise _had_ been made.

He raised his eyes and looked at Victor. The coach smiled back, the blood rushing to his face.

 

_The press, relatively passive before, surrounded Victor like a swarm of flies on something sweet. They’d pulled him aside the moment Yuuri stepped away and showered the coach with all kinds of questions (most of which made Victor very uncomfortable)._

_Yuuri found them not long after and interrupted another personal question in a never-ending torrent of questions to tell them what he thought of the freedom of the press. He was so angry he didn’t limit himself to words and supplemented them with gestures. He supposed that, in a way, it was like providing subtitles for anyone who didn’t understand what he’d said._

_That done, he took Victor by the hand and led him away while they stared with their mouths open._

_Victor was shocked and frightened, but it was more than that. He wasn’t just embarrassed by what he’d done, he regretted it._

_So Yuuri sat him down and confiscated his phone before the millions of phone calls could tear it apart. Then he launched a pre-emptive strike. He got Otabek and Yuri to keep Victor company while he called Yakov and told him exactly what would happen to him if he gave Victor a hard time over the incident._

_When he returned to Victor’s side the skater’s head was lowered and he looked even more crushed than before._

_“Honestly,” Yuuri said, tossing Victor’s phone from one hand to the other. “You’d think you’d killed someone. All you did was touch me. I am – as I’ve pointed out many times before – your boyfriend. You can touch me however you damn well like!”_

_“But I’m Russia’s top skater,” Victor exclaimed in what was almost a wail. “I’m representing my country!”_

_“So what? Just because you did that now everyone will think that all Russians grab –”_

_“Yuuri!” Victor interrupted. “You don’t understand!”_

_“You’re right: I don’t.” He sat down beside Victor. “What is it? Now you’ve really tarnished your spotless reputation? All that flirting didn’t count until you touched my ass in public? What?”_

_Victor sighed. “It’s not just that. My aunt probably saw that. She’ll be embarrassed of me. She barely has any family left and here I am: shaming the family name!”_

Oh God, do people really still think things like that? _Yuuri took Victor’s hands. “Next time I see her, I’ll take all the blame. I’ll say I made you do it. There. Happy? She knows you’re a complete pushover and that you’ll do anything I say, so she’ll believe it.”_

_“No, Yuuri, it was my decision. I can’t let you take the blame.”_

_“You’re making it sound like some kind of crime.” He edged closer to Victor. The coach moved away like someone who thought that was the proper thing to do. “Is touching me a crime?”_

_“What? No.” Victor stopped moving._

_Yuuri found the spot on the bench where he could sit with his thigh just touching Victor’s and stopped moving. “So kissing me isn’t a crime?”_

_“Of course not!”_

_“Then kiss me. Right here and right now.”_

_Victor reached out and took Yuuri’s face in his hands. Yuuri caught his lips hungrily with his own._

_Was it just his imagination or was his own heart beating faster?_

_Victor’s fingers slipped further into his hair._

Here’s to us, Snowflake: the oddest couple in existence. Probably.

 

He sat in auntie’s kitchen and listened absent-mindedly to Yuri telling her about himself. Aunt Liuda was interrogating him about his skating, showing how closely she’d followed Victor’s career all these years. In fact, she asked better questions than the press often did, but none of the skaters were going to tell her that.

Yuuri reached out and took Victor’s hand. He would keep his promise. No matter what.

 

That evening after they came home and Yuri went off to his room, muttering something angrily under his breath, Victor had a request:

“Yuuri…” he whispered as his pupil caught him from behind. “I… I was thinking we could… um… I’m… uh… how do I…”

Yuuri released him and turned him around to look into his face. “You’re not in the mood, are you?”

Victor lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s fine,” Yuuri said. “If you’re not in the mood, just say it. And you don’t need to sneak off and pretend to be asleep.” Victor had done that the night before. He’d come up with an excuse to go on ahead to their hotel room and lay with his eyes closed when Yuuri came up to join him.

Victor blushed as if he’d been caught in a crime.

“Listen,” Yuuri said, “I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, got that? You don’t want this right now? That’s alright.” He raised his hands and kept his expression neutral. “Hell, I’ll even sleep in another –”

“Ah! Yuuri!” Victor grabbed his arm. “I’m… uh… I want you near me.”

“Oh, good.” Yuuri freed his arm and wrapped it around Victor’s waist, pulling him close. “I’ll keep my clothes on, then. You, on the other hand, being the pervert that you are, like to sleep naked –”

“Yuuri!”

He pinched Victor’s face. “I was kidding, Snowflake. Now, go. I’ll join you in a bit.” He pushed Victor in the direction of the bedroom, taking care to keep his hand on Victor’s back.

When Victor left Yuuri went to the kitchen and pulled out his phone. He couldn’t avoid it anymore. He had to deal with the threat. The longer it dragged out, the higher the chance got that he’ll die. That they’ll all die.

“It’s me,” he said once a voice on the other end answered. “I’m tired of waiting. Tell me where he is or how to find him.”

 

The following morning Victor was his usual self again. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that his aunt got all emotional when he’d left, proving that she wasn’t as angry with him as he’d feared she’d be. Maybe it was because his phone was off all this time and so no one could call him and say something rude. Maybe it was because he woke up with Yuuri’s face resting on his chest and his legs tangled around Victor’s as the skater slept (in his clothes, as promised). Or maybe it was because, despite everything he’d said and done, Yuuri was still not angry with him.

Victor made pancakes as both Yuris sat in the kitchen, waiting for him to finish. Makkachin had come in to lie down at Yuuri’s feet.

He turned around and caught the way Yuuri was looking at him. He’d been selfish again, pushing Yuuri away and not caring about what he wanted. It must’ve cost Yuuri a lot of effort to keep himself under control. He remembered the way the skater rubbed his cheek against Victor’s chest in his sleep.

 _I’ll make it up to you,_ he promised, turning away as the blood rushed back to his face.

Victor made a pancake in the shape of Makkachin’s head, tossed it onto a plate and set it down in front of Yuuri.

“Seriously?” The skater raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize I was back in kindergarten!”

Yuri snorted.

Victor reached for the plate and Yuuri caught his hand. “Leave it.”

There was nothing to do but to return to the stove and finish making breakfast. Yes, Yuuri always considered what he wanted. Yuuri always did what he could to make him happy. Yuuri always protected him, sometimes even from himself.

 _I don’t deserve you,_ he thought miserably, flipping the next pancake over. _I really, really don’t._

 

Yuuri watched Victor hum, and smile, and make that silly pancake. He watched Victor blush and berate himself for something yet again and sighed.

What a thing it was to have a conscience! And a relatively clean one at that! He was glad he wasn’t so unlucky. Oh, they’d tried to instill in him a sense of right and wrong, but he just didn’t see the point.

Right? He always did what to him seemed right. Most of the time it seemed wrong to everyone else, but couldn’t that be said about any decision? Or most decisions?

Whatever, he wasn’t going to debate morality when there was Victor for him to watch. That _always_ felt right, just like feeling him up felt right and making him moan while Yuuri rode him felt right. Damn, right!

Oddly enough, even sleeping with his clothes on and his arms wrapped around Victor felt right and he wondered about that.

They sat and ate together while Yuuri debated what he wanted to do next.

He waited for Yuri to finish and leave before getting up and sitting down on Victor’s lap. “I need some fresh air and a walk. Let’s go somewhere. We’ll have to take the kid, though.”

There was a smile on Victor’s face. “What do you have in mind?”

“Why don’t you decide?”

The smile on Victor’s face widened and Yuuri wondered how to break it to him that he was about to leave for several days. Knowing Victor, he’d take it all personally and assume that it was because he’d done something wrong.

“Kiss me,” he whispered and then let himself loose. Victor responded as best as he could.

“I think,” Yuuri whispered pulling away and snatching Victor’s lips again, “I think… maybe we should…” He didn’t finish the thought, merely waiting for Victor to catch up and come up with his own ending for that sentence.

But Victor was getting carried away this time.

 _I have to go,_ Yuuri told himself. _I can’t, but I have to. It’s only for a few days. I’ll be back soon. I’ll be back before he…_

“Will you miss me, Snowflake?” Yuuri whispered, breaking off the kiss. The words slipped out before he’d even decided that he would tell Victor.

“Hmm? What? What are you… talking about?” He was slightly out of breath, but didn’t let that stop him.

“I need to go sort something out,” Yuuri said. “Don’t make that face. I’ll be back in a couple of days.” He shifted closer. “And then we’ll have as much fun as you like.”

“When are you leaving?” Victor asked quietly, as if bracing himself for bad news.

“Tomorrow morning,” Yuuri replied. He slid his fingers over Victor’s face. “Will you keep our bed warm, Snowflake?”

“I’ll think about you every minute of every day,” Victor promised and pulled Yuuri into a tight embrace. “Every day,” he repeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m off on my hiatus now. Sorry I couldn’t finish the fic before I left (and sorry for the small cliffhanger), but right now I don’t even have a good guess as to how many chapters are left. I’ll do my best to respond to comments while I’m off, so feel free to leave some!


	38. I Think He Likes You

Victor sat in the bathtub, feeling lonely and trying to cheer himself up with thoughts of the upcoming European Championship, but it was no good.

Where was Yuuri? He hadn’t been home for two days. Even though he’d told Victor that this time he would be gone for several days, it didn’t help. It didn’t make the apartment less empty or the bed less cold.

He sighed, feeling powerless again.

He heard the front door open and wondered if he should call out. What if it wasn’t Yuuri? Terror gripped his heart at that thought. Not only did he have no idea how to defend himself, but he was also completely naked, lying in the bath, feeling more vulnerable than ever.

“Victor?”

“I’m here!” he responded, heart leaping.

There were familiar footsteps in the hall and then the door opened and Yuuri walked in. Victor studied him carefully, trying to see if he was injured. Yuuri merely stood there.

“Well, are you sure that all of me is present and correct?”

Victor gripped the side of the bathtub. “I think so.” The terror had let go, leaving an aftertaste of fear.

“You’re not going to ask to do a proper check?” Yuuri said, unzipping his jacket.

“Ah! Y-yes!” The colour rose to Victor’s cheeks.

Yuuri tossed his clothes onto the floor.

Victor reached out, took Yuuri’s hands and pulled him closer. “Kiss me.”

Yuuri chuckled and leaned down.

“I missed you,” Victor said between kisses.

Yuuri pulled his fingers through Victor’s hair. “Is this all I get?” he asked after a while.

Victor moved to stand up, but Yuuri stopped him. “Move over.”

He watched Victor pull his arms and legs close and climbed in.

They sat in the water, staring at each other. Victor smiled. Yuuri reclined against the side of the bathtub and beckoned Victor over with his finger.

 

Two days and one night of sneaking through the underground, dealing with thieves, murderers and blackmailers were starting to take their toll on Yuuri. He was following the lead he’d gotten while pretending to be drunk. It was his first chance to finally use it. Still there was nothing on his unseen enemy, only a nickname. He’d tortured a man for several hours to get it.

Red.

What sort of a nickname was that? He might as well have picked a random letter of any alphabet.

Yuuri went home – having long ago stopped calling it Victor’s apartment – feeling drained of the strength and will to do anything.

And then he found Victor taking a bath. Something about that image was so innocent that he felt his doubts resurface. Was it really right for them live together? Wasn’t it better to arrange for someone to watch over Victor and leave no matter what the price? But if there was one thing Yuuri had learned in the previous three months it was that, contrary to outward appearances, he was as smitten with Victor as Victor was with him.

There really was only one thing left to do in his circumstances: flirt.

He joined Victor and then got the skater to sit on his lap with his back facing away from him.

“Yuuri,” Victor covered his face in embarrassment as if they’d never been this intimate before. “I… uh…”

And Yuuri did what he always did: grumble about Victor’s height and make use of his hands. Victor turned his head and Yuuri caught another kiss.

“I missed you,” Yuuri said quietly and felt Victor’s heartbeat increase under his hand.

“I love you,” Victor responded. “I wanted to say it right before you left, but you snuck off while I was sleeping.”

Yuuri smiled. “You’ve said it often enough. You don’t need to keep saying it.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

“I want _you_ to say it.”

Yuuri opened his mouth to jokingly ask what he should say and took in the look on Victor’s face. He smirked and whispered really quietly into Victor’s ear, as if imparting a great secret, “I love you.”

Victor turned around and Yuuri recognized that expression. “Might be a good idea to go somewhere more comfortable first,” he suggested.

“I’m comfortable here,” Victor said.

“I might not be: you’re sitting on my legs.”

“Oh! I –”

Yuuri cut in with, “Forget what I said. I’m curious what you’ll do next.”

Victor leaned over for a kiss.

“Hmm… A bit disappointing, to be honest: I was hoping for a bit more than that.”

Victor blushed and slid his hands down over Yuuri’s chest. He hesitated when he reached Yuuri’s stomach, took a deep breath and moved his hands onwards.

“Turns out you’re good at using your hands,” Yuuri whispered, trying to hide how flustered he suddenly was. He raised his own hands and pulled them through Victor’s hair. Victor closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, reminding Yuuri of their pair skate. “Don’t you ever worry that I’ve corrupted you?”

“I’m not as innocent as you think I am and you’re not as bad as you claim to be.”

“Not as bad?” Yuuri had a cold smile on his face at those words. “I tortured a man last night for information and I don’t feel any guilt about it. What will you say about that, Snowflake?”

Victor raised his hands and placed them on Yuuri’s shoulders. “I still love you,” he whispered and kissed his neck.

 _And that’s the problem. If you could stop loving me, maybe I could fix it somehow._ He sighed. It wasn’t a pleasant thought no matter how he looked at it. He reclined and closed his eyes as Victor’s kisses moved up his neck.

“Forget this,” he said after a while. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Victor climbed out of the bathtub and held out his hands to help Yuuri.

“Did the kid leave already?” Yuuri asked, climbing out without Victor’s help and then grabbing his hands anyway.

“Mila took him yesterday. I think Yuri feels lonely,” Victor said, drying himself off and handing the towel to Yuuri.

Yuuri took the towel and dried himself. “I don’t care. I’m not his mom. Or dad.” He walked into the bedroom, Victor following close behind him.

“But Yuuri –”

“What?” Yuuri spun around as he reached the bed. “Are you going to argue with that? You’re not _seriously_ going to tell me that he’s my responsibility or something equally stupid like that?”

“You did promise to protect him,” Victor pointed out.

“Yeah, yeah, I thought I already proved that I’m doing that. I’ll be the first to cry if something bad happens to the kid.”

Victor gave him an odd look and Yuuri prepared to explain that that was sarcasm.

“I think he likes you,” Victor cut in before Yuuri could start.

 _Oh, you noticed, did you? Well done!_ Yuuri shrugged. “Good for him.” And then another thought occurred to him. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

“No, no, of course not!” Victor lowered his eyes.

Yuuri tried to guess what was going through his mind.

He, Yuuri, was the jealous type. He knew that for certain. Just the thought of someone taking up Victor’s time, even if it was his coach, did something odd to him. He didn’t like it himself. Somewhere in the future a messy conversation waited for him and he didn’t dare guess how it would go.

Victor was a difficult one to understand. Almost a year ago he’d found Yuuri with Mila and took her for his girlfriend, but it was hard for Yuuri to tell if he’d been jealous at the time. Upset? Definitely. Jealous? Who knew?

“Do you get jealous, Snowflake? Do you ever look at me and think ‘mine and no one else’s’?” He stepped up to Victor as he spoke. Yuuri gave his most dangerous smirk (guaranteed to make Victor faint even at half of its strength) and waited for a faint or blush.

Victor sat down on the bed and covered his face with his hands. He said the words that made Yuuri’s blood boil angrily every time he heard them, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Who _the hell_ gave you that idea? And why _the hell_ do you keep saying it?”

Victor looked up into his face. “Because… because…”

Yuuri climbed onto his lap. “I’ll prove you wrong.” He pulled his fingers through Victor’s hair and kissed him, pouring out all of himself.

“Most people,” he said, pulling away and then changing his mind and snatching another kiss, “would claim the opposite, my five-time world champion. Most people,” and here he stole another kiss, “would go on (in the most annoying and boring way possible) about how perfect you are, Snowflake. They’d consider me the worst person, probably worse than the dirt on their shoes.”

“What about Yuri –”

“Yuri has bad taste,” Yuuri cut in. “You have that in common with him. Congratulations!”

Victor looked ready to argue. He had that determined expression on his face and Yuuri knew that he was going to stubbornly cling to his point of view.

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “It’s all idiotic. Who deserves who, I mean. You don’t deserve to live in constant fear for your life. Probably.” He shrugged. “Yet here you are.” He slid his hands over Victor’s chest. “And possession is an odd thing. I say you’re mine, when it’s really the other way around. You made your way into my life. You tore down the walls I had around me and snuck into my heart. Now the walls are back up, but you’re stuck on the inside.” Yuuri smirked. “You should get a certificate of possession. Cursed owner of Yuuri Katsuki. Sign here. Good luck with the rest of your life!”

He had an odd thought and moved forward on Victor’s lap.

Victor blushed and tried to stammer something out.

“So will you?” Yuuri asked quietly.

“Will I what?”

Yuuri bit back the first words that sprang to his lips. “Will you ride me or not?” He climbed off Victor’s lap and rose to his feet. “I’ve had my fill of doing all the work.” He walked around the bed and lay down on his stomach.

Several minutes passed and, just as Yuuri was about to make another sarcastic comment, Victor shifted over to him and turned him onto his back.

“I love you,” he said yet again and kissed Yuuri.

He wanted to say, “That won’t be enough” or even “prove it”, but couldn’t. Instead, he closed his eyes and kept his hands off.

Victor liked to live dangerously and so did Yuuri, but Yuuri preferred to control the level of danger in his life. That wasn’t to say that he used to be able to control it like a volume control by adjusting the level to what he felt was just the right amount, but usually he could either not kill people for months and, so, be relatively safe, or he could kill several people, piss one or two powerful people off and have about as much excitement as a screaming fan has at their idol’s concert. In short, he wanted to put a terminal end to the threat. He couldn’t let those idiots keep chasing him. It was time to find the head and chop it off.

There was only one problem: he’d run out of options he was comfortable with, which meant that he had to do something he really didn’t want to do. And the list of things Yuuri Katsuki didn’t want to do was very frightening indeed. It was also very short.

Victor’s lips were on Yuuri’s chest and his hair was brushing against Yuuri’s skin. Suddenly Yuuri found he couldn’t think about anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally back from my hiatus!  
> Also, I commissioned more art!! Which you can see here (sorry I will never get enough of Yuuri in a leather jacket): http://witharthurkirkland.tumblr.com/post/164155327463/two-beautiful-commissions-made-for-me-by  
> When I found out that the engagement rings in the show come with a snowflake engraved inside them, I confess that I laughed for a good five minutes about it.
> 
> Also just to be clear: Yuri has one of those celebrity crushes on Yuuri. He’ll get over it eventually.


	39. Should I Change into Something Else?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the side effect of me spending 10 days in 35+ C (96+ F) temperatures. I accept no responsibility for things spontaneously catching fire. Proceed at your own risk.  
> And because someone on Tumblr asked me this: the current estimate for the length of this fic (and please forgive me, if I’m wrong) is around 60 chapters and a total word count of probably just over 150k.
> 
> In other news, expect a Burlesque AU shortly. In fact, you can take this as a kind of mild mental preparation. Probably.

_Victor’s hands gripped Yuuri’s shoulders as he buried his face in Yuuri’s chest. He wept, like someone who couldn’t stop._

_Yuuri stood still, unable to move his arms or legs. He tried to open his mouth to ask why Victor was crying, but couldn’t._

_“Yuuri!” Victor clung tighter to him, his voice breaking…_

Yuuri awoke and swore. It was just a stupid dream. It was just a damned stupid dream!

He turned over and saw Victor asleep next to him, a smile on his face. Yuuri reached out and took his hand.

He wanted to go shoot someone, chase them around town until they reeked of fear and then plant a bullet between their eyes. He wanted to find the bastard who was ruining their lives and wring his neck.

Instead, he settled for sliding over to Victor and burying his face in his coach’s chest, clenching his teeth to keep from swearing aloud. Victor embraced him in his sleep.

The next time he awoke it was from the sound of Victor’s voice. It didn’t take him long to work out that he was on the phone or who he was on the phone with. There weren’t many candidates for that, in any case.

“…Ah! No, _really_! I’m still so embarrassed about it! …But, but –! … Yes. Yes, you’re right. He is.” There was a heavy sigh. “I must be the luckiest man alive! … What? No. What?” The second “what” was delivered in a much louder tone of voice and Yuuri wondered why.

A thought occurred to him and he searched around for his own phone, but he froze with his hand outstretched towards it as he heard the next words.

“But he’s mine!” Victor exclaimed in the most emphatic tone Yuuri had ever heard from him. “I… I mean, I’m his,” he tried to back out. “God! How embarrassing!”

_Well, well._

“He’s my boyfriend!” Victor protested and Yuuri wondered how long it would take him to figure out that Chris was just messing with him. Then he wondered why Chris could get Victor to make such emphatic declarations when he couldn’t.

He slipped out of the bedroom and walked soundlessly towards him.

“Yes!” Victor answered, giving his head a slight shake to show that he really meant it. “You know he is, Chris! Yes! And, yes, we’ve done that too!”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows. He was so surprised he had no space left in his brain for jealousy. He caught Victor from behind and whispered into his ear. “Are you _really_ telling Chris the details of our sex life?”

Victor nearly jumped out of his skin and dropped his phone with a yelp.

Yuuri ignored it. “Well?”

“I… I... I… er…” He stuttered, unable to get past a single word.

Yuuri rose on his tiptoes and put his chin on Victor’s shoulder. “Yes?” He ran his hands up Victor’s chest.

“I don’t… I don’t have any secrets from Chris!” he suddenly exclaimed. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to!”

“I’m not sure if I agree with the second statement, but the first one sounds true enough.”

Victor’s head dropped back. “Yuuri…” he gasped.

“Don’t get carried away, we have an audience.” He released Victor much more reluctantly than he dared to admit and scooped up his phone. “Next time,” he said to Chris, “mind your own business!”

“Ah, Yuuri!” Chris laughed. “You know how it is. Just making sure you’re treating my friend well.”

“That’s my job,” Yuuri told him. “Anyone bothers Victor, I’ll make sure they never bother anyone ever again. Got it?”

Chris laughed. “Oh, come on!” He tried to sound playful, but Yuuri could hear the fear in his voice.

“And, besides, don’t people usually pay to be allowed to listen in on this kind of thing?” _I feel like someone somewhere does._

“I could give you tips,” Chris offered.

“I’m sure you could,” Yuuri countered.

Chris whispered something hurriedly and Yuuri could feel his eyebrows rise further than they ever have before. He swore. “What kind of an imagination do you need to come up with _that_?”

“Sometimes, Yuuri, you don’t need a good imagination, just access to the _right sort of resources_.”

“Look, if you think I’m going to borrow –”

Chris laughed. “No, I expect you’re not interested in that sort of thing.”

Yuuri eyed Victor and had a very odd thought. He tried to suppress it, but it stubbornly rose to the surface like a float in the water. No, it was a stupid idea.

 _Might be worth keeping in mind, though,_ a different part of his brain suggested.

 _Fine_ , he conceded, _I’ll think about it. Doesn’t mean I’ll do it. Probably._

“Go away,” he said to Chris and ended the call. He tossed the phone onto the couch and stepped up to Victor. “Well, Snowflake, what will it be?” He grabbed him by the hand and pulled him close. Then he slipped his hand around Victor’s waist. “What plans do you have for the day?”

Victor blushed deeply. “I… uh… t-training?”

“Hmm… Not what _I_ would’ve called it, but why not?” He was embracing Victor from behind now. “I just had a thought,” he whispered, “it’s a shame you weren’t on the phone with Yakov. I think I wouldn’t have minded him hearing you moan my name.”

“Yuuri!”

“That’s not moaning.”

 

The afternoon before the first day of the European Championship arrived finding both skaters in the capital of Slovakia. Victor stood in the hotel lobby, waiting for Yuuri, who had taken one look at the weather and decided to change.

It wasn’t like him to wear something other than his leather jacket when they went out together and it had caught Victor off guard. What was Yuuri going to wear?

His brain added ‘for their date’ several seconds later and his heart beat faster.

He’d spent the morning practicing for his short program and now they finally had some time to spend together in Bratislava. He wondered if Yuuri had any specific plans.

“Waiting for your boyfriend?” Chris asked with a wink. “Mine always comes early,” he confided in a quiet tone of voice, leaning forward.

Victor wondered why Chris said those words quieter than the others, but Chris spotted his date and left before Victor could ask for an explanation.

“I’m back,” Yuuri whispered into Victor’s ear, making him turn around.

He was wearing a leather vest (with a shirt under it), but... Holy crap! A leather vest! With studs. A leather vest. A black leather vest.

Victor brain ground to a halt and hung on the edge of a cliff. And then he noticed the other important detail.

Yuuri was in shorts. Very short ones and very tight ones. And probably... Yes, they were made from black leather too.

He stared into Yuuri’s face, his mouth open and his cheeks flushed.

“I figured this would do for a date outfit.” Yuuri shrugged. “Should I change into something else?”

Victor brain kicked in and shot past the shock at Yuuri’s appearance, past the realization how much it suited him, past the thought of all that leather, past the urge to faint, or at least nosebleed, and straight to controlling his mouth. This was important.

“No!” he exclaimed and turned redder.

“So you like it, then?” Yuuri had that smirk and arched an eyebrow in a way that he had to know, he just _had_ to, was enough to make Victor do anything.

He nodded. Wasn’t it obvious that he liked it? How could anyone _not_ like it?

Yuuri held out his hand with a chuckle. Victor took it.

He had a date with the God Eros himself.

And so Eros led and Victor followed without a word.

They walked down a street, or maybe down several and all Victor could see were Yuuri’s eyes, the smirk and the leather vest. He didn’t dare lower his eyes further.

Who could control themselves in this situation? Who could calmly take Yuuri’s hand, lead him somewhere (where?) and have a proper, regular date?

“Will you grab my ass, or is that too much to ask right now?” Yuuri whispered, a mischievous sparkle gleaming in his eye.

 _Oh God! I dare not touch you right now!_ “I... I don’t ... I dare not...”

Yuuri pulled away. “I’m going to go back and change.”

“No! Please!” Victor froze as Yuuri stared at him. “I... uh... I like it.”

“And yet, you look ready to faint.” There was that eyebrow again. Yuuri stared into Victor’s face without a word for several seconds and then shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He walked off.

Victor stared after him.

No doubt, if he’d been capable of a single coherent thought, as he watched Yuuri walk away (his eyes focused on one specific part of Yuuri), it would’ve been: _I can’t grab that!_

 _Breathe_ , he tried to tell himself. _This is Yuuri, your pupil, your –_

The world faded away.

 

Victor opened his eyes and stared up into the whole world, an entire universe, the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

Yuuri was leaning over him. “Did you enjoy your nap?”

“W-What?”

Yuuri held him up. “You passed out in the middle of the sidewalk.”

Victor took in his surroundings. He was in a street. There were cars, and houses, and people. A lot of people. Actually, they were at the centre of a crowd.

His only support in that moment were Yuuri’s arms. He grabbed a hold of them, as if afraid Yuuri would take them away.

“I’m fine,” he finally managed to say. “Just... the um weather... I’m not used to the heat.” It wasn’t that hot, but he couldn’t come up with anything.

Actually, judging by how hard it was to breathe, it was very hot.

Slowly the crowd dispersed, the people in it throwing suspicious looks at him over their shoulders.

“I knew this would turn out to be a bad idea,” Yuuri muttered. “Would it be better if we returned to our room and you pulled it off me?”

Victor gripped Yuuri’s shoulders. “I... uh... I don’t think... I can’t think about that right now...”

“Alright. Then pretend I’m wearing my usual clothes. Let’s go for a walk.” He helped Victor stand. “Do you think you can do that, or should I go get my bike?” He’d rented a motorcycle again, but, for some reason, had decided that a walk was better this time around.

“I... I think I’d rather go for a ride,” Victor said. “O-on your motorcycle, I mean,” he added, all too aware of Yuuri’s favourite euphemism.

Yuuri pulled him close. “You bet.”

 

But even the motorcycle ride wasn’t the same. Victor was conscious of how Yuuri was dressed the whole time and when they stopped in an empty alley Yuuri took Victor’s hands and ran them over his thighs.

“Let’s go back. This date isn’t working out at all,” he said after Victor nearly jumped out of his seat.

 _Maybe if..._ Victor climbed off the bike. “Let’s stop somewhere.” He looked around and spotted a little cafe.  “There. Let’s just stop there. Maybe... Maybe if I can... Maybe I can get used to it, somehow.” He kept his eyes fixed on Yuuri’s face.

Yuuri shrugged. “If you say so, Snowflake.”

He parked and got off the bike.

They walked into the cafe together. It was completely empty and Yuuri picked a spot in the corner.

A waitress showed up and took their order. As soon as she set her eyes on Yuuri, she got as flustered as Victor was. She rushed off to the kitchen the moment they stopped talking.

Yuuri sat apart from Victor. He pulled a Swiss knife out of his pocket and fiddled with it, folding the different blades out and then snapping them back in.

When he finished going through all of the blades, he looked up and tossed it at the board on the opposite wall, where it hit and bounced off. He got up and retrieved it before the waitress could return and find out what the loud noise had been.

“Should I throw it with the blade out?” Yuuri asked nonchalantly, as if he was asking Victor what he’d ordered.

“Yes,” Victor whispered.

Yuuri pulled out a blade and threw the knife. It dug into the board and stayed there. He produced another knife out of his pocket and threw it too. It landed next to the Swiss knife. It soon turned out that the inside pockets of Yuuri’s vest had ten small knives and Yuuri threw them all within a centimeter of each other while they waited for their drinks.

The waitress returned, completely missed the knives, and placed their drinks down in front of them. She left right away.

Victor got up to retrieve the knives. Something about seeing Yuuri throw them had excited him and now he wanted a chance to touch them.

Each knife dug in deeply, making them hard to pull out, but he managed it and brought them all back to Yuuri.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” Yuuri pocketed them.

Victor nodded and sat down.

Yuuri shifted closer and slipped a hand under the table and onto Victor’s inner thigh.

“Y-Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, jumping in his seat.

“What’s gotten into you today, Victor?” Yuuri slid away. “You’re fainting again. You’re too scared to touch me and now I can’t even touch you. Next you’ll be telling me you don’t want to have sex with me anymore!”

“What?” Victor exclaimed. “Of course I do! Why wouldn’t I want to have sex with you?” The words rang out loudly in the empty cafe, but Victor had temporarily forgotten where they were. “How can I _not_ faint when my boyfriend, the hottest man on the planet, is wearing leather shorts!”

The door to the cafe swung open as more customers walked in.

Still Victor was going. He felt like he’d tumbled off the edge of a cliff and couldn’t stop falling now no matter what happened.

“And how can I _not_ want to grab you, when you have... uh... such a nicely-shaped butt!”

“Ass,” Yuuri suggested quietly. He’d raised an eyebrow in surprise, not knowing that that action alone was pushing Victor on.

“Nicely-shaped ass!” Victor corrected himself. “And you know how I feel about leather and now you’re... you’re wearing so much of it and it suits you and –”

There was probably a point he was getting to, but he suddenly forgot what it was. Several things happened all at once: he ran out of steam, he realized what exactly he’d just said and he also noticed that he had an audience apart from Yuuri.

He stood with his mouth open and one hand raised as the blood rushed to his face. The metaphorical tumble from the cliff was over: the ground had come faster than he’d expected.

By the oddest of coincidences, the newcomers were Chris and his boyfriend. There was an amused smile on Chris’s face. His boyfriend, who had no idea what was happening, stuck to staring with surprise written all over his face.

Yuuri stood up, his eyes on Victor, as if he hadn’t seen anyone else come in. “And how am I supposed to act when I want you all the time?” he exclaimed, as if they were having a fight. “What do you want me to do when you go out there on the ice dressed like a matador, which suits you more than I can damn well explain? Do you expect me to stay calm when my boyfriend is the most beautiful man on the planet?”

If Yuuri had remained seated, Victor would’ve probably appreciated the effort he’d made, but, unfortunately, he stood up, drawing Victor’s eyes and attention downwards.

“Come here, Snowflake,” Yuuri said, sitting down again.

Victor dropped into his seat. No. It was no use. He could feel himself about to faint.

Yuuri shifted towards him, grabbed him around the waist and pulled Victor onto his lap. “My dear coach, I will cheer for you tomorrow.” His hands encircled Victor.

“Let’s go back to our hotel room,” Victor whispered, putting his hands on his face. “I’m so... so embarrassed right now. It’s those clothes you’re wearing.”

“So you want me to pull them off? You’d prefer it if I was naked?”

Victor blushed deeper, not knowing where to put his face.

Yuuri chuckled. “Just say the word.”

Chris walked up to their table, his boyfriend a step behind him. “What a coincidence! I didn’t think we’d run into you two!”

There was a cold look on Yuuri’s face and Victor braced himself for a fight between them. But Yuuri remained silent.

“You look really bored, just sitting there. Let’s go on a double date,” Chris suggested.

“The only person going on a date with Victor is me!” Yuuri snapped.

“No, no!” Victor cut in. “That’s not what a double date means.”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow as he listened to their explanation. “Fine. Whatever. If you’re sure you want to go...” He looked at Victor.

 

It was a terrible idea, going on a double date – or anywhere really – with Chris. Yuuri didn’t like him. That’s not to say that he hated him, he just preferred to avoid Chris altogether. He’d succeeded thus far (which was surrprising, considering his close friendship with Victor), but now there was no way out.

There was a reason he’d agreed, though: Victor. Maybe running around with his friend would help Victor get over the way Yuuri was dressed.

Yuuri swore at himself and the whole universe. He hadn’t expected such a strong reaction. Or, rather, he thought they’d gone beyond such strong reactions.

Chris dragged all three of them around the city, from tourist attraction to tourist attraction, not missing a single one (or so it seemed to Yuuri), making sure they took a million photos in front of each one.

He leaned against the wall while Chris’s boyfriend took pictures of Chris and Victor striking stupid poses yet again and scanned their surroundings. Habit had kicked in and he did it automatically, without even thinking about it. Dozens of tourists were all doing the same thing: snapping photo after photo and Yuuri’s eyes passed over them, seeing them all as one big mass without anyone to stop on.

“Yuuri!” Victor ran up to him. “I-I want a picture of you...”

 _A commemorative photo?_ Yuuri thought with a smirk, but said nothing. “Go ahead.” He made a dismissive gesture.

Victor took a photo and smiled. “Thank you!”

Then a thought occurred to Yuuri. He detached himself from the wall and came up to Victor. “Are you going to post it?”

“Yes...” Victor blushed.

“I can see the tags now,” Yuuri laughed. “Tell me, will you use #toohot or #hotdamn?”

It looked like Victor was seriously considering the answer to this question. “I haven’t decided yet,” he admitted at last.

Yuuri held out his hand. “What else have you got on there?”

“N-nothing much...” Victor stuttered, but Yuuri pulled the phone out of his hand.

It didn’t take long to find a folder named “Yuuri Katsuki”. _Here we go._ Scrolling through them, he couldn’t help suspecting that half of the space in Victor’s phone was taken up with just pictures of him. But...

“There are mostly official photos from press releases,” Yuuri said. _Every single press release, I’ll bet._ He raised his eyes and caught the look on Victor’s face. “What you really need are pictures of me that no one else has. Like nudes,” he added, leaning forward.

Victor blushed.

Yuuri’s lips were next to Victor’s ear as he whispered, “I want pictures of _you_ naked.” He reached out to catch Victor, but he wasan’t fainting this time.

“Ch-Chris asked if I have naked pictures of you.”

“So once you get them, you’ll show them off to your friend?”

“No!” Victor protested hotly. “I never would!”

Yuuri kissed Victor below the ear and whispered. “I know Chris is taking a picture of us right now.” He looked into Victor’s face. “Kiss me.”

Yuuri saw the photo later (after Chris posted it). In his mind, it was almost perfect, even better than the photo of the kiss the press took. Victor’s hands were gripping his vest while Yuui had one hand on Victor’s behind and one on his back. The position of their legs – one slightly forward and the other back – made it look like they’d kissed while on the ice. Both of them had their eyes closed.

There was only one flaw with the photo in Yuuri’s opinion: it was still. It didn’t show how enthusiastically Victor had lunged for him and how much energy Yuuri put into his response.

They headed back to their motorcycle and their hotel room after that. Victor got a photo of Yuuri standing against his bike and Yuuri got one of Victor trying to repeat his pose before dragging him inside.

As soon as they made it to their room Yuuri pushed Victor onto the bed and climbed onto his lap. “Well? Will you grab me now?”

Victor’s hands were already on him before he could even think of a suitable reply, Yuuri shifted forward, drawing his legs further apart.

“Do you still want a photo?” he whispered.

But Victor missed his question: he was too busy sliding his hands up and over Yuuri’s vest. “Can you keep your vest on?” he asked shyly.

In response Yuuri took it off, pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside and then pulled the vest back on again before remembering something. “Hold on, I need to get rid of the knives first.”

He got up and took them out one at a time, arranging them neatly on the table. When he turned he caught the look on Victor’s face.

“Careful, Snowflake, or you’ll hurt yourself.”

Victor lowered his eyes.

 _Why are you so attracted to danger?_ Yuuri wondered. It just made no sense.

He climbed over Victor, pushing him back onto the bed.

“Yuuri!”

“Since you like leather so much, why don’t you pull these shorts off? There’s a zipper at the front.”

Victor reached out.

Several concentrated seconds passed and Victor exclaimed, “Yuuri! You’re not wearing any underwear!”

It had been really uncomfortable, but it was worth the look on Victor’s face. “I figured it would speed things up. Was it a bad idea?” He wondered when Victor would realize that he’d frozen with his hands pulling Yuuri’s shorts down his hips. “I can put some on, if you like.”

He waited for a blush, or a protest, or.... he wasn’t sure what _exactly_ he’d expected, but it definitely wasn’t Victor pulling his shorts down faster.

Yuuri threw aside his self control along with Victor’s shirt. He remembered what Chris had told him over the phone and decided to put it to use.

“How about a new pose?” he whispered into Victor’s ear as he ran his hands over the skater’s chest. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll inspire you to break the world record tomorrow?”

Victor put his hands over his face.

Yuuri sat up straighter and for the first time his eye fell on the wall behind Victor. It was covered in writing done in someone’s blood.

_Yuuri Katsuki is a dead man walking._

Yuuri’s blood ran cold. He lowered his eyes, trying to regain his self-control, but the fear, however brief, must’ve shown on his face, because Victor sat up in alarm.

“What is it?” He sat up and turned his head before Yuuri could say anything, and read the writing.

Yuuri waited to see his reaction. What else could he really do at that point? Pull Victor close and tell him it was going to be okay, when it probably wasn’t?

He’d seen the way Victor had reacted to his knife throwing. What would he do about this threat?

Victor pulled Yuuri down on top of him and then turned them both over. “I’m going to be on top tonight,” he whispered and there was only a little bit of a blush on his face.

 _Well, well._ “I look forward to it,” Yuuri replied.

Victor ran his hands over Yuuri’s hips. “I liked the shorts,” he admitted. “Will you wear them again? I promise not to faint next time.”

“It’s a deal,” Yuuri said.

People who didn’t know them very well wondered what they saw in each other, or how they even got along. People from the outside saw a living legend with the innocence of an angel and a delinquent without morals. They didn’t know how much Victor liked to live on the edge or how much Yuuri needed someone loyal and dependable in his life. And, so, when faced with a threat they went on more or less as if nothing had happened. More or less.

 _Damn!_ Yuuri thought, gasping for breath. _If I’d known that’s all it took to push you in the right direction, Snowflake, I’d have scrawled a threat in blood on the wall myself._

And much later there were photos, several of which Yuuri told Victor would keep him warm on cold nights.

In the morning the wall was clean and Yuuri knew without asking that it was Victor’s doing.

They ate breakfast in the hotel and headed to the competition together without saying a word about what had happened.

Before they split up (Victor to join the other competitors and Yuuri to find a place to watch from) Victor squeezed Yuuri’s hand, his expression very serious.

Yuuri nodded and Victor released him.

As he watched Victor go, something dark stirred in the depths of Yuuri’s mind.


	40. I’m Going to Compete in Figure Skating

“Victor! I’m so glad you’re back! It wasn’t the same without you!” someone exclaimed, running up to Victor and holding out their arms for a hug.

Russia’s hero smiled like an idiot. “Thank you!”

“Promise you’ll never leave again!” the person went on in that nauseating tone that needed to be banned.

Yuri rolled his eyes. It was always the same with Victor. First he had to deal with this crap in Russia, now here.

“Oy!” He turned on the speaker, his eyes flashing. “You mind keeping your fanboying down? We came here to compete, not to drool over people!” A thought occurred to him and he grinned wickedly. “If you’d rather be a fanboy, why don’t you back out of the competition now and stop wasting everyone’s time?” It was a comment worthy of Yuuri Katsuki himself and Yuri was very proud of it.

He stuck his chin up and walked away, not caring how much grief Yakov gave him over it later.

Right before he got to the ice he searched around in the crowd for Otabek and then for Yuuri. He nodded at both of them and followed the other skaters.

Victor skated past him.

_I refuse to lose to you,_ Yuri thought, feeling a fire burn inside him. _I’ve had enough of being in your shadow._

The day before leaving for the European Championship he’d visited Victor’s aunt again. Apparently, she wanted to see him as well as her nephew with his boyfriend, so Yuuri had borrowed a car again and drove them all to her apartment.

 

_This time the Russian skaters were shocked to see how warmly she greeted Yuuri. She gave him a playful slap and then pulled him into a bone crunching embrace. He tried to laugh it off, but it was obvious he was as shocked as they were._

_She sat him down and set his cutlery and dish down first. Then she went into what Yuuri jokingly called “aggressive hospitality mode”: she tried to feed him pretty much everything in the house. Yuri and Victor were offered everything Yuuri declined to eat._

_As they all ate she asked each of them questions, while still watching Yuuri. There was a smile on her face, but Yuri had the sudden suspicion that somewhere buried deep below it was a threat._

_She rubbed his shoulders when Yuuri admitted he was going with Victor to the European Championship._

_“I’m not letting him out of my sight,” Yuuri said, resting his chin on his arm and smirking at Victor._

_Not content with just rubbing his shoulders, she got up and kissed the top of his head._

_What was going on?_

Between the big smile on Victor’s face, Yuuri’s improving Russian and the growing fondness the aunt was showing Yuuri, the picture the Russian Yuri was getting was…

He didn’t want to think about it.

It was stupid, but he’d enjoyed his time with the other two skaters. When Mila arranged for Otabek to look after him he found himself expecting a sarcastic comment after every word he said. There was something exciting about being around Yuuri. Otabek just radiated an aura of calmness.

He turned away and his eye caught Otabek’s. He wanted to know more about his new friend, but he didn’t want to annoy him with a bunch of questions.

_“You mean he didn’t tell you he used to be a cop?”_

The question would often keep him awake at night or give him odd nightmares. What had Otabek done? And why did Yuri feel so safe with him anyway?

 

Yuuri watched the skaters go out on the ice with his arms folded over his chest.

Last night they’d had the most mind blowing sex ever. He remembered how Victor had grabbed him with his hands and then ran them over Yuuri’s body. His coach had really learned how to push all the right buttons and Yuuri didn’t hesitate to tell him this.

Victor hadn’t been embarrassed. Not much. And he certainly hadn’t held back.

Guilt reared its ugly head again, popping up like an annoying weed, but it was different this time.

Had he corrupted Victor? Had he really taken his pure and innocent soul and dirtied it? He, who said that he liked Victor the way he was?

Yuuri was so lost in thought he missed the skaters getting off the ice and only came out of his reverie when Victor skated up to him. On the other side of the ice rink Yakov looked ready to lose it.

“Say something dirty to me, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’re sure you won’t faint?”

“I won’t. I promise.” _God, he sounds like a kid promising to be on his best behaviour during a school field trip._

With the worst timing imaginable, Yuuri’s mind went blank and he couldn’t think of a single dirty thing to say. Then he leaned forward, angry with himself, and grabbed Victor’s face with both hands, bringing their foreheads together. “Am I going to get a piece of Victor Nikiforov’s sweet ass tonight, do you think?”

Victor blushed and, again, in that school kid tone, said, “I promise.”

“You act all innocent, Mr. Nikiforov, but I know what’s _really_ on your mind.”

Victor moved back and then brought his face close to Yuuri’s again. Yuuri waited for a kiss. “ _You_ are,” Victor whispered and skated away.

_Ah hell, Snowflake!_ Yuuri thought. _When did you get so bold?_ “I’m getting a separate room, if you don’t win, Victor!” he shouted at the top of his voice.

Victor turned, his face still red, and nodded to show he understood.

Victor assumed his initial position and Yuuri saw the serious expression on his face. Once again, Victor Nikiforov was going to be Yuuri Katsuki.

The music broke out and Victor jumped on the spot, making the same suggestive bite at Yuuri that Yuuri had made at him. He set off, not a trace of a blush on his cheeks. Yuuri leaned forward. There was his own cold, steely gaze on Victor’s face. It impressed him how well Victor could impersonate that, or so many of his gestures. And this time he had Yuuri’s leather vest on.

The five-time world champion, the living legend, jumped flawlessly, all while imitating stone-cold killer Yuuri. He’d spent enough time around Yuuri to have a vague idea of how his mind worked. There was that I-don’t-care-what-anyone-thinks attitude and Yuuri almost expected Victor to make rude gestures at the audience. Even Yuuri had trouble believing this was the same person who’d asked to wear his vest that morning while blushing as if asking for permission to commit a crime.

But he’d washed the blood off the wall without a problem.

After they had sex under it. Under the threat to his life written in blood.

He knew there was something wrong with him, but there was something really wrong with Victor now too. Wasn’t that proof enough of what Yuuri had done to him? Six months ago, hell _six weeks ago_ , he would’ve been terrified witless of the threat.

And now he treated threats and violence as something to be excited about.

_No,_ Yuuri thought, _he’s just too naïve to understand. He always thought that playing with fire is fun. It’s the same as the blind love some people have for bad boys without realizing what they’ve signed up for. Hell, even the way he imitates me isn’t quite right. He treats it like a game of pretend. I haven’t corrupted him._

_But I’m about to do something worse._

_I swear I’ll make it up to you, Snowflake._

He watched Victor skate as him and sighed. _You haven’t got that hardened bastard personality down just yet and I hope you never do._

What could Victor possibly be thinking of when he tried to imagine he was Yuuri? Knowing him it was probably something like kicking puppies and stealing candies from babies.

He thought of the words Victor had whispered when he’d been on top of him. The naïve man had actually promised to protect him! In response, Yuuri had switched from whispering his name, or any variations to his name, to just moaning the word “coach” over and over again. It had caught Victor off guard. Yuuri thought it was hilarious and could barely keep from laughing aloud about it.

A step sequence followed that was reminiscent of Yuuri’s walk and brought a mischievous grin to Yuuri’s face. Some people said that seeing others imitate you taught you something about yourself, but Yuuri was learning more about Victor as he watched him skate.

_You really need to stop worshipping the ground I walk on._

He remembered the first time he saw Victor skate. It wasn’t a magical moment. He didn’t have a grand revelation, no angel came down from the skies to tell him that he had to skate. He didn’t even look at Victor and fall in love.

Actually, no. No, in a way, he supposed it was all of those things. Damn.

 

_“What an incredible performance from the rising star Victor Nikiforov! Truly he is in a league all of his own! Can anyone measure up to his skill?” The commentator went on, as if unable to stop. He used every expression Yuuri had ever heard to say how good Victor was at skating. It was like being hit over the head with the same fact repeatedly._

_10-year-old Yuuri Katsuki rolled his eyes at the TV. What a goody-two-shoes! He made skating look so boring! Sure, he was good at it, but…_

_It was glaringly obvious that he had no real competition. Someone needed to go out there and give him a really hard time. Make him stop and realize that skating was much more than that._

_Yuuri picked up the remote to turn the TV off when Yuuko ran in all out of breath._

_“Yuuri! Did you see? Did you see Victor Nikiforov? He’s amazing! Isn’t he amazing?” She looked like someone about to explode from excitement._

_“I did,” Yuuri said._ And now I’m bored. _He held up the remote to turn the TV off._

_“Wait! They’re going to interview him!” Yuuko exclaimed. She was almost bouncing from excitement and made Yuuri think of a basketball._

_“I don’t want to watch his interview,” he told her._

_“Why not?” she asked. She sounded surprised, as if he’d just said he wanted to walk backwards for the rest of his life._

_Yuuri was willing to bet that she thought that around the world everyone sat in front of their TVs watching Victor skate. She was so stupid!_

_And then he saw Victor look at the camera and give the biggest and most beautiful smile anyone had ever given._

_“I’m going to compete in figure skating,” Yuuri suddenly said. “I’m going to be better than him and one day we’ll go up against each other and I’ll beat him.”_

_He turned away and walked out of the room._

_Let Yuuko watch the stupid interview if she wanted to._

 

What would his 10-year-old self have thought if someone had told him that fourteen years later he’d move in to live with Victor? That they’d be madly in love with each other? That every night they would have sex, and this was sex of the hot and passionate variety, as opposed to the hate sex that might have resulted if they’d been in the long and bitter rivalry he would’ve expected back then?

At some point their relationship went off down a different path than the one he’d expected, like a train that ended up on the wrong tracks. The train driver stood with a confused look on his face and scratched his head, wondering where the hell he was and how he’d gotten there. Yuuri still wanted to compete against Victor and beat him, but not because that would show him and shut him up. He just _knew_ that he was better and he wanted to win and no sappy feelings would get in his way.

He was suddenly aware of the fact that for some time now his mind had been edging around a certain _big thought_ while looking the other way. He tried to avoid thinking about it, but up it sprang, trapping him.

_No. That’s a terrible idea._

His 10-year-old self would’ve been shocked.

His 20-year-old self would’ve been disgusted.

His current self merely chuckled. _And what do you think, coach?_

The image of Victor frozen in fear in the middle of the road as a car came for him presented itself to his mind.

 

_He ran. He didn’t stop to think. He just let his instincts take over and ran, pulling Victor off the road and to safety. Victor had been too stunned to do anything and could barely understand what had happened. He’d opened and closed his mouth like a fish while Yuuri waited to see if he’d somehow died anyway._

_“Y-you saved my life!”_

_“What kind of a moron are you?”_

_For a moment that was so mad it deserved to be locked away for the safety of others Yuuri waited to be recognized. But why would the 2-time world champion, the prodigy, the light of Russia’s eyes recognize him? He was just one of the other competitors who barely ever won a medal. No, Victor had no reason to remember his face and, what was worse, Yuuri was willing to bet that Victor wouldn’t recognize him the next day when he went out on the ice._

_He turned away and took all his anger out on the stupid driver. It was all his fault this had happened. Why couldn’t he drive properly? Why did he have to make Yuuri rescue people he didn’t want to rescue?_

_And when Yuuri walked off he wondered why he’d done it._

_Because he still needed to beat Victor? Right. That was it._

 

Now, almost four years later, Yuuri wondered if there hadn’t been a different reason. He thought back to the smile on the TV screen and the promise he’d made to himself (and technically to Yuuko, but she just happened to be there, so she didn’t count) to beat him.

Victor went into his final spin and the routine ended. The figure skating legend turned to Yuuri as the cold expression melted into a big smile. It was the same smile as all those years ago.

_I’ll beat you, Snowflake. When we go up against each other in the World’s Championship I will be the one with the gold medal around my neck._

As Victor skated to the kiss and cry Yuuri leaned forward and shouted, “Nice skating, babe!”

Victor turned bright red and nearly fell over.

_Still got it,_ Yuuri thought with satisfaction.

They announced Victor’s scores and the fact that Yuuri’s new world record hadn’t been broken.

This made him grin. _That’s one point for me, Snowflake._

He joined his boyfriend afterwards and they watched the other contestants. Yuuri kept one hand on Victor’s knee while half-sleeping through most of the other skaters’ short programs. He was still a bit jet-lagged, but mostly he was just bored.

When the Russian Yuri went out on the ice, Yuuri sat up straighter. Victor’s arms wrapped around him.

“He’s really grown, hasn’t he?” Victor whispered, lowering his head on Yuuri’s shoulder.

“If you adopt him, I’m moving out.”

“What?” Victor asked.

“Never mind.”

When Chris skated Victor shouted words of encouragement until Yuuri leaned over and rubbed his nose against his coach’s neck. “Snowflake,” he whispered, “do you think if we go off anyone will notice the living legend is gone?”

“Y-Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed.

Yuuri put a hand on Victor’s chest. “We can practice some knife-throwing together,” he whispered.

“I-I thought you said you didn’t want to teach me how to use weapons,” Victor whispered back.

“I wasn’t talking about actual knives,” Yuuri told him. _Just my luck,_ he thought, _when Victor asks me to talk dirty to him, my brain goes blank, but now he doesn’t get it._ “I want to feel your edge,” he breathed out.

Victor looked ready to pass out. “Yuuri…” he whispered.

Yuuri leaned towards Victor and caught his earlobe with his mouth. He kept his hand over Victor’s heart. It was beating faster.

“Yuuri, please,” Victor said, “I… Th-the competition is almost over…”

He released Victor’s earlobe. “Victor…” he moaned. “Have I ever told you that you’re irresistible, Snowflake?” He slid his thumb over Victor’s lower lip.

“Yuuri…” Victor breathed out, “let’s go. They won’t miss us.” He leaned in for a kiss.

“And that’s all for the short program segment of the European Championship! And the results are…” Yuuri climbed onto Victor’s lap as their kissing got more enthusiastic. “…in second place we have Yuri Plisetsky and Victor Nikiforov in first!”

Yuuri pulled away. “Let’s go.” He moved to stand up, but Victor pulled him back.

“I love you, Yuuri.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m thinking about putting in a scene later on that may count as explicit, except so far I wrote everything aiming for a mature rating on purpose and I’d rather not rewrite the whole story just to match the explicit rating, so my questions are:  
> 1\. Do you want an explicit (full out smut) scene in the future?  
> 2\. Is anyone reading this who would prefer it if I stuck to the mature rating as it is now? (I know that the line is a little bit difficult to judge sometimes, but I think you know what I mean) Also, don’t feel bad replying with a yes to this question. I can always just post the scene as a separate fic  
> 3\. If, for example, one of the final chapters is explicit do I rate the whole fic as explicit?  
> Please answer, because I’m at a little bit of a loss. To be honest, I’m having a bit of an existential crisis as I ask myself what the difference between explicit and mature is, so another option is I put the scene in and then the first person who comments gets to decide if it’s explicit or mature, or we all collectively vote, or something.


	41. I Want to Feel Your Edge

_She reclined in her seat with a smile. She’d made it. She allowed herself a sigh of relief. The train left the station, slowly gaining speed, and she stared out the window at the empty platform._

_It would be another two hours before they caught up with her, which gave her more than enough time to get out of the country. And into another country. And then it was just a matter of remembering to use the right fake passport to go home._

_The door of the train compartment opened and a figure stepped in. It pointed a gun at her. “Hide me.”_

_Mila stared at the newcomer in shock._

_The newcomer stared back, returning the look. It was Sara._

_Mila would’ve given her a sly smile and made a joke, but she was still in front of a gun, so she pointed at the space under her seat without a word. Sara scrambled under it._

_“You give me away, I will shoot you!” she muttered, pulling her legs in after her._

_Ten minutes later a bunch of thugs with guns came in._

_Twenty minutes later Mila and Sara were sneaking around the train, taking the thugs out two at a time._

_Fifty minutes later they were back in the compartment, laughing themselves silly. Mila went silent, but a smile stayed on her face. It was a genuinely happy smile and it was shocked to find itself on Mila’s face. Sara’s expression was the same. There was even a twinkle in her eyes._

_As the train pulled into the next station, an hour after it had left the first one, Mila felt Sara press her lips against her own._

_Maybe it had been intended as a chaste kiss, but Mila caught her and refused to let go. And refused to let it be just a chaste kiss._

_For the first time in her life she met someone who, she felt, was the same. They didn’t need to spend a whole train journey telling each other about their lives, or their feelings, or their opinions. No, all it took was one look (and one exciting gun chase through a train, of course). Besides, who needed to get into their whole biography when they already knew everything there was to know about each other? Sometimes being the leader of a rival gang can have unexpected benefits._

_An hour on the train flew by like 30 seconds and Sara got off at the next station._

_The smile was gone. They’d barely exchanged a dozen words, but they knew how their conversation would go. They’d both mentally had the same argument and both of them lost it, not knowing that both of them argued in favour of staying together._

_It was time to go. They could never meet again. Not in the way they wanted. Oh, they could (and would) meet many times with weapons in their arms pointing at the other party, but they could never meet for an intimate moment stolen from eternity._

_And so Mila went on to become the Russian Thorn and Sara became the most terrifying member of the Crispino family._

_Mila won gold time and again, and Sara had to contend with silver._

Mila stood on the ice, preparing for her free skate. After the short program, she was in first place. She knew Sara was somewhere nearby, waiting to see how she would skate.

Yakov gave her his usual speech and she pretended to listen. She still wondered if he suspected anything about her.

He’d been her coach ever since she was little and he knew that sometimes she disappeared without a word. He was there to see every injury she got out on the ice and he knew whenever she came with a new scar whether or not it was from skating.

What would Yakov think if he found out that his top female pupil was one of the most feared people in the underground?

Somewhere in the audience Yuuri and Victor sat, hands wrapped around each other, and Mila felt jealous again. They had the luxury of being open with their feelings. She didn’t.

There _she_ was. She had a soft look in her big brown eyes. Her hands were joined together in front of her chest and Mila tried not to remember how her own skin tingled at the touch of those fingers.

She let out a long breath. It was time.

“Representing the Russian Federation – Mila Babicheva!”

She went out onto the middle of the ice, one hand raised in the air to greet the audience.

The leader of the Russian underworld, or Death, as Yuuri called her, presented to the world the lightest skating routine it had ever seen. Critics later praised it as “delicate work”. She walked away with a gold medal and a heavy heart.

She, who could have someone killed with a single word whispered into the right ear, trembled at the look on Sara’s face.

It was over. It just wasn’t meant to be.

Some people had all the luck, while others had none.

“I look forward to beating you again in the next competition,” Mila told Sara as they stood on the podium and smiled for the camera.

Sara laughed and said nothing.

That was their goodbye.

Damn Yuuri and his stupid luck!

 

Someone in the audience got the odd idea to chant Victor’s name throughout the entire free skate segment of men’s figure skating, regardless of who was out on the ice. This resulted in a big fight with Yuri’s Angels. Some fans had to be escorted out.

Yuuri actually stood in front of the audience, waving his arms like a conductor, trying to get them to chant to a specific rhythm.

“Victor! Victor!” they chanted, splitting his name into two syllables and making it sound like the ticking of a clock.

Victor stood in the middle of the ice and tried to focus. One leg was straight, the other – slightly bent under him. Both of his arms were held out, bent at the elbows, his shoulders slightly raised, hands downwards like at the start of a dance. His head was lowered and his eyes were closed.

“Victor! Victor!”

 

_The hot Spanish sun shone down mercilessly. The crowd shouted, demanding blood. They released the beast. It stepped forward and, true to tradition, beat the sand with its hoof and snorted. And then it ran._

_The beast closed in on the matador._

_The corrida began._

Sand became ice, but the deadly battle didn’t vanish. He imagined holding a sharp sword and a red cape. He started out with a step sequence, as if circling the bull and trying to decide where to strike.

He remembered that night in Barcelona when he and Yuuri had a fight.

 

_He marched out, angry with his pupil. How could Yuuri say something so cruel?_

_Victor had to leave. If he’d stayed, he knew he would’ve forgiven Yuuri and done what the skater wanted. It was much easier to be angry at a distance when he couldn’t see those eyes and that smirk._

_He headed straight for Chris’s room, not stopping to think that he could be interrupting something_

_And he interrupted._

_He interrupted Chris and his boyfriend as they watched an interesting documentary on TV about matadors._

_He cried into Chris’s shoulder, explained what had happened, listened to Chris’s opinion on the subject and…_

_…and sat down to watch TV with them._

_A matador attacked on the screen, clad from head to toe in red and gold and Victor watched in fascination._

_Hot-blooded young men fought for their lives (after having put them in danger of their own free will) and Victor thought he understood._

He came out of a spin and held out an arm as if raising a sword.

_“I want to feel your edge.”_

He thought of Yuuri, hot-blooded (and just plain hot), getting into a fight and barely escaping with his life. He imagined Yuuri as the matador and tried not to fall over as his brain painted him an image of Yuuri dressed in black and gold, eyes gleaming with danger, mouth twisted in a smirk as he challenged the world.

 _Ride me_ , he suddenly thought, _I want to feel_ your _edge._

He jumped, he spun, he went around on the ice, forgetting he had skates on and breaking out into something resembling flamenco.

 

_It was one of the last days of a hot Spanish summer. Somewhere in the audience the brave matador’s lover sat and waited for the fight to end and for the night to come._

 

He caught Yuuri’s eye in the audience. Yuuri bit his lower lip suggestively. Victor smiled and went for the imaginary kill.

A quadruple flip and the imaginary bull was dead.

Victor stood, trying to catch his breath as the audience went on chanting his name. They hadn’t stopped throughout his free skate and only fatigue and boredom could stop them now.

He skated to where Yuuri stood and was greeted by an odd sight: Yuuri had a red cape draped over his shoulder and a sword in his hands. He presented them to Victor.

“You forgot your edge, Matador.”

Victor blushed. “And you never forget.”

“I always have mine with me,” Yuuri said. He draped the cape over Victor as the Russian skater took the sword in his hands.

They headed for the kiss and cry together, each of them sticking to their side of the skating rink wall. Yakov sat with his arms crossed and an angry expression on his face.

“I’ll deal with this,” Victor said, the sword still in his hands. He sat down like a prince taking his place on his throne and held his head up high.

Still they chanted his name.

“When will you grow up?” Yakov asked. “This is a serious competition, not some sort of play!”

Victor lowered the sword onto his knees. “Yuuri is just spoiling me.” _He’s been doing that a lot lately._

He’d proposed several ideas for dates that Yuuri had dismissed as sappy, but still they’d gone. Victor thought of the previous night, how Yuuri had scoffed and rolled his eyes, but still dragged him out and kissed him in the moonlight.

And then he gave himself over to his pupil.

 

_It was quiet. Victor lay on his back with his legs spread apart, his knees slightly bent. Yuuri rubbed his nose against Victor’s thigh, holding on to it with one hand._

_“Well, coach? Have I been a good pupil? …Or a bad one?” He raised an eyebrow…_

“…beat the world record again!”

Yakov shook Victor out of his reverie. “Vitya! Vitya! I don’t believe it! That’s incredible!”

There was a tear sliding down Victor’s cheek. He didn’t hear anything, not the happy roar of the fans, not the excited shouts from the commentator, not even his own coach’s congratulations. One thought pushed all the other thoughts out of the way, suppressing all of them and taking up all of the available space in his head.

_Yuuri is being very nice to me. Too nice. Something terrible is about to happen._

He looked at Yuuri. Yuuri’s eyes were cold.

“Enjoy easy victories while you still can,” Yuuri said, but there was none of his usual sarcasm in his voice.

Victor thought his heart might stop.

And Yuuri stepped into the kiss and cry to lean over him and plant a kiss on his cheek. “You big cry baby!” he whispered into his ear. “Should I go fetch your hanky?”

“Y-Yuuri…” Victor caught him by the shoulders, “…promise you won’t leave me.”

“We really picked a spot for it, haven’t we? The kiss and cry: where I kiss and you cry.” His laughter was cold and insincere. He tried to pull away, but Victor held him.

“Anything…” he whispered, “anything you want, just don’t leave me.”

Yuuri chuckled. “What an offer, coach!”

He clung on tighter. “Promise,” he insisted.

“Do you want me to swear on the life of my family?” Yuuri suggested in an amused tone. “Or should I swear on the moon?”

“On my life,” Victor answered, taking the question seriously.

Yuuri drew in a sharp breath.

“Get out of here!” Yakov interrupted.

They released each other and Victor waited for Yuuri to go off on Yakov, but he merely turned away and walked off.

Victor got up and ran after him. It wasn’t easy to run with a cape and a sword and in a pair of skates and he nearly fell over several times, but managed to catch up with Yuuri in the hallway.

Yuuri turned around and caught him.

The sword fell on the floor and the cape joined it soon after.

Their height difference was more pronounced since Victor was on skates, but they didn’t let that stop them. Yuuri’s hands roamed over Victor’s body.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Yuuri whispered between kisses. “Hell, I couldn’t even if I really wanted to. I have this big baby to take care of.”

“R-really?” Victor asked, trying to play along. “Does the baby have a name?”

“I’m not sure what name suits him best. You might have met him. He keeps winning gold and has the sweetest ass on the planet.”

Victor blushed. “I-I’m not really sure who you mean. Does he have short dark hair?”

“Good one, Snowflake,” Yuuri laughed and pulled away. “Alright, go fetch me that medal.” He stepped back and raised a hand to his ear theatrically. “You know, I think I can still hear them chanting your name. Maybe they forgot how to say anything else.”

 

They couldn’t have done it better if they’d planned it. They broke each other’s records as if they were in a relay race and the record was the baton they kept passing back and forth. Yuuri put about some odd rumours just so he could laugh at them when they turned into news.

And later he gave an interview in which he told the reporters that those rumours were in fact true. Yes, they did bet on the outcome of each competition. What did they bet on? Yuuri smirked. “What do you think, boys and girls?”

But that was much later.

Now the European Championship was over.

Yuuri headed for the bike, Victor following closely behind him. Yuuri got on first.

He gripped his coach’s thighs as soon as he joined him. “Ah! Here are the gold medal-winning thighs I know and love!”

Victor lowered his chin onto Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Do you think you could put your hands on my chest?” Yuuri asked. He felt Victor’s hands slide up and sighed. “Feels good, Snowflake.” He shifted back slightly. “Okay, now I’m ready,” he said.

And they were off, as the old stories would have it, into the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the answers! The explicit chapter will probably be near the end somewhere, so I have some time to see how it turns out and decide what to do with it. I’m thinking of organizing a vote when I get to the chapter right before it. The vote will be: include it in the fic and raise the rating of it to explicit, or put in a mature version into the fic and then post the explicit version separately.
> 
> Also: 100k! I made it! Hooray!


	42. You Don’t Know What You Do to Me

He was a bastard, a complete and utter bastard. But there was nothing new there.

Yuuri sat on top of Victor, sliding his hands over Victor’s behind, as if trying to get a good feel for its shape. “My matador,” he said, almost laughing at the nickname.

Victor gasped out Yuuri’s name.

 _Before I get the bottle, I wonder what it would feel like if I used my mouth._ Yuuri leaned down.

“Yuuri!” Victor very nearly screamed.

Yuuri sat up, caught off guard by Victor’s reaction.

He heard footsteps and reached for the gun under the bed. Before Victor could say or think anything more, Yuuri dropped onto his back over Victor, holding up his gun and shielding his coach with his body.

But the footsteps were just the neighbours walking around above them.

“Yuuri!” Victor whispered in shock.

“Yeah, yeah, I know: what a boring position!” They still lay back to back and Yuuri made a mental note that it wasn’t all bad.

“That’s not what I meant at all! What – what was that? Wh-what you d-did…”

Yuuri slid away and lay down on the bed, returning the gun to its usual place before Victor could see it.

Victor sat up and looked into Yuuri’s face. And then Yuuri realized that not only was Victor blushing, but so was he.

“Not good enough for you, Snowflake?” Yuuri asked, trying to hide how flustered he was behind his usual sarcastic tone. “Should I have used my tongue as well?”

“That was so embarrassing!” Victor exclaimed and buried his face in Yuuri’s chest.

“Who cares? Did you enjoy it?”

Victor nodded. Yuuri felt his coach’s nose dig in deeper as Victor pulled him closer.

“The way I see it,” Yuuri went on, the fluster all gone to be replaced by his usual bravado, “I may be about to die a bloody and messy death, so I will get as much pleasure out of life as I can.” He ran a hand up Victor’s back. “And you, Snowflake, can ask for anything.” Victor raised his head. “Yes, anything that makes you feel good. Now me,” both of his hands were on Victor’s back now, rubbing the skin with his thumbs, “I felt good just hearing you scream.” _Really damn good._

“Do it again,” Victor whispered. “Do it again and I promise to keep screaming.”

“I’ll do my best,” he slid a finger over Victor’s cheek, “coach.”

 

Yuuri awoke with his head on the pillow next to Victor’s. He opened his eyes and stared at Victor’s sleeping face.

He’d joked about making Victor scream, but when he’d actually done it, he found he hesitated more than Victor himself, who pleaded for more each time Yuuri paused. His cries and gasps still echoed in Yuuri’s ears.

_“More, please… Yuuri! Yuuri, please… Please for the love of everything don’t stop!”_

Yuuri closed his eyes and put his hand to his forehead. _God, Snowflake, you have no idea what you do to me._ He wondered why none of the neighbours hadn’t come knocking. He’d expected an angry mob. He was ready to kill anyone who insisted they keep it down. In fact, he was prepared to take on the entire building, from the people who lived on the first floor to those on the top one.

But they’d been left alone.

They’d dropped down side by side afterwards, their hands on each other’s chests, feeling their hearts hammer away like mad and Yuuri knew that if Victor had offered to do the same to him he wouldn’t have had the courage to say yes. But Victor hadn’t. He’d just confessed over and over again before he drifted off.

“Yuuri…” Victor whispered in the here and now as his eyes opened. He sat up sharply.

“Good morning.” Yuuri shifted a couple of centimeters, as if trying to find a more comfortable part of the bed. _Did you have to get up? I wanted a couple more minutes, damn it!_

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed in a hushed voice. “M-my voice! I… I lost my voice!”

“That’s what I call some good quality screaming without holding back.” Yuuri opened his eyes, turned onto his back and folded his arms under his head with a smirk.

Victor blushed deeply. “B-but how can I talk now?”

“I like it,” Yuuri pulled Victor back down. “It sounds sexy.”

“You don’t mean that!” Victor protested.

“Say my name and I’ll prove you wrong.” Yuuri pulled him closer, pressing his body against Victor’s.

“Yuuri…” Victor half-said, half-whispered and then blushed. “Yuuri!”

Yuuri breathed in slowly and let out a sigh. “Sounds really damn good.”

“I can’t go to practice like this!”

“Why not? Last I checked, you didn’t need to be able to talk to skate.” Yuuri slid his hands up over Victor’s shoulder blades. “Unlike having sex, of course.”

Victor blushed deeper. “But I’m your coach!”

“Hmm…” Yuuri rubbed his nose against Victor’s neck. “Are you really? And here I naïvely thought you were my boyfriend!”

“Y-Yuuri!”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s go anyway.”

He got out of the bed and headed for the bathroom. He needed a cold shower, a really cold shower. And right away too. It was either that or there would be no practice for the day.

Before long, he stood under a stream of cold water and stared down at his feet.

He was a bastard. A complete and utter bastard.

Every day he put it off and every day the guilt grew stronger.

 _I have to do this,_ he told himself. _I have to. There’s no choice. I’ve run out of options and like an idiot I keep making it harder for myself._

He thought he could make up for it somehow. Give Victor a couple of good days to remember, just in case…

No. No, he couldn’t think that. That was dangerous territory and he couldn’t even let his thoughts stray there.

What was it that characters in books and movies did in his situation? He couldn’t remember.

Probably write a long and pathetic letter and then jump in a river. That sounded like a stupid enough thing for fictional characters to do.

He glared at his feet, as if warning them that if they so much as think about jumping from any great height they would regret it. And he wasn’t wrong.

Again, he wondered why the hell he’d ended up with Victor. He tried to remember when it all started to go downhill, but the memory of the previous day presented itself instead.

Memory was funny that way.

 

_Victor was in the kitchen, humming under his breath while Yuuri lay on the couch in the living room. And then he must’ve decided that humming wasn’t enough, or maybe it was a completely unconscious decision on his part. Whichever it was, he decided to sing._

_“_ Say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime _…”_

_“Oh for the love of…” Yuuri called out. “Snowflake! You thinking of switching careers? Because the whole opera thing…” He paused as Victor stepped out of the kitchen._

_There was a big grin on his face. “What did you say?”_

_Something in Yuuri’s stomach flipped over._

He could feel it in his stomach now.

It was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea. Hell, everyone and their mother knew it was a bad idea. But he was going to go ahead with it anyway.

Why was Victor having such an effect on him now? Why the hell was he going soft? Why him? And why now?

There were too many questions without answers. It was time to dry himself off and go to practice.

 _I can’t do it,_ he thought, remembering Victor’s big grin. _God damn it all to hell! I can’t do it._

 

It was awful. Everything was awful. The world was falling apart. People were terrible. Every single one of them.

She just wanted to curl up under the covers and sleep forever. And maybe she would get what she wanted in the land of dreams.

The reality of the break up hit Mila hard.

She put her face against her knees. She couldn’t train like this. She couldn’t do anything like this. All she could do was lie here and wait for the world to end, or for her to die either from starvation, or thirst, or…

_Or a broken heart._

She was Death. She was the big boss. She made big, muscular men with bad reputations wet their pants in terror.

And yet she was hopelessly in love. Like some kind of character from a book.

But if she didn’t go someone would go looking for her. Someone would get curious. Someone would find out. And then the whole world would find out.

She dragged her body out of the bed and into the bathroom.

There was a weak and defeated-looking person in the mirror, but she ignored them.

It was fine. Everything was under control. She didn’t need anyone. Not even beautiful young girls with big brown eyes and soft, long hair and the warmest embrace.

She swore and pulled out her phone.

The Ice Tiger of Russia was with the Hero of Kazakhstan and she had to go pick them up. There was no time for sad thoughts or stupid emotions.

She stared at her phone for several seconds until it finally sunk in that nothing had come for her overnight. There were no new messages.

Mila swore again and then sat down on the floor and cried the first genuine tears of her life.

 

They arrived at the ice rink, acting as if everything was the same as always. Yuuri tried not to laugh. It was hard. It was really hard. He watched Victor as they joined the skaters training under Yakov.

He was blushing faintly, but there was an odd sparkle in his eyes.

“Morning, everyone!” Victor greeted the skaters, doing the worst impersonation of his usual voice Yuuri had ever heard. Hell, he could sound more like Victor than Victor did in that moment.

“What happened to your voice?” Georgi asked.

“Do you have a cold?” That was the Russian Yuri trying to sound like he didn’t care and failing.

“I’m fine,” Victor tried to reassure them. “I’m not sick.”

Mila raised her eyebrows at Yuuri. He smirked in return and said nothing.

Yuri saw the looks Mila and Yuuri exchanged. “You guys are gross,” he told them and went to join Otabek, who was temporarily training with the Russian team.

Several meters away Yakov looked like someone who was about to lose every ounce of self-control he ever had. And quite possibly all of his hair too. Yuuri walked past him, his hands in his pockets and said nothing. Yakov replied with an angry silence.

The other skaters watched this like it was the most fascinating event of the year, which, for some of them, it probably was.

 

It was the most fascinating event until that afternoon when practice ended and everyone was greeted by a rain of bullets.

Before anyone could do or say anything Yuuri had everyone back in the building. He exchanged a look with Mila and Otabek.

Mila pulled out her phone and texted someone.

Nearly everyone else started to panic. The question “What is going on?” was repeated with many variations on the theme.

“I just got a text from a friend,” Mila said in a calm tone of voice that somehow caught everyone’s attention. “She says that there are criminals just outside being chased by the police.” Mila pretended to read off her phone, but Yuuri wasn’t going to be fooled so easily. “The back exit is free,” she added.

Without another word, everyone ran for it. Almost everyone.

Yuuri stepped up to Mila. “I’m ready.”

Otabek nodded.

Victor and Yuri exchanged a glance.

And everyone else kept running for the exit.

Between them, Yuuri and Mila worked out a plan, with the occasional input from Otabek and then they left, ordering Victor and Yuri to look after each other.

_Here they are again. And, once again, we won’t find out who sent them. Who knows? Maybe next time they’ll attack during practice._

_I’ve had enough of this. I need to neutralize all of them, no matter what it takes._

_If only there was another way._

 

All they could do was wait. Wait and hope everything would be okay.

Victor saw the look Yuuri threw at him as he left and, once again, terror squeezed his heart. He leaned against the wall, feeling ill.

“Oy, old man, don’t go passing out on me now!” Yuri exclaimed. “I’m not carrying you around like a giant baby!”

How could he explain to Yuri what was going through his mind right now?

Did he want to?

Probably not.

He didn’t want to admit it to himself.

“I’m going to go for a walk.”

“What the hell? A walk? We’re supposed to stay together!”

_And I want to see Yuuri. I need to see him and know he’s okay._

He thought of the times he’d seen Yuuri involved in a gun fight. It was always so exciting to watch Yuuri fly in and take everyone out, as if they were nothing more than cardboard cut outs.

Why was it different now?

“You’re worried about him, aren’t you?” Yuri asked quietly.

“Of course I am!” Victor exclaimed. “I can’t just stand here and wait for him to get back!”

“Well, it’s not like you can do anything! You’ll just be another target!”

“He’s planning something,” Victor suddenly said. “I can see it. He’s planning something terrible and he won’t tell me what it is.” He covered his face with his hands. “I don’t want him to leave me somewhere. I don’t want to be left alone for my own safety. I’d rather share the danger with him.”

Yuri scoffed and turned away. “Because dying together is such fun.” He rolled his eyes.

They were silent for several minutes and then Yuri whispered, “I know how you feel: I wish I could be by Beka’s side right now.”

Victor said nothing and thought instead of the night before. He remembered the feel of Yuuri’s lips where he’d expected to feel his hands. And then thinking _Oh God, what is he doing?_ over and over again. He’d screamed in surprise and then worried what Yuuri would say afterwards. He’d expected to be teased over it, not told to do it again.

Yuuri’s response still echoed in his ears.

_“I felt good just hearing you scream.”_

He understood what Yuuri had meant about doing something to make the other person feel good and when he heard Yuuri confess that he’d enjoyed hearing Victor scream, Victor made himself keep going. Well, technically, all he did was let himself go.

He put his hands over his face. He’d let himself get carried away, but what could he do when Yuuri had done what he’d done? How had Yuuri done it? His whole body felt like it was burning and he knew that he’d do anything Yuuri asked for. Anything at all.

_Yuuri, you don’t know what you do to me. I’ll move mountains for you, if you asked._

The sound of footsteps made him raise his head and he saw Yuuri walking towards him, a gun in his hand and a satisfied smirk on his face.

He felt his knees tremble under him.

There was that walk. No one else could walk like Yuuri Katsuki. No one could look so pleased with themselves while still looking like the sexiest man on the planet.

Yuuri stopped, unloaded his gun and put it away.

Victor rushed to his side.

Yuuri grabbed his head and kissed him, taking his time, feeling around Victor’s mouth with his tongue.

The living legend closed his eyes and prayed he wouldn’t faint. He caught Yuuri’s arms with both hands and clung on.

Yuuri pulled away and Victor stood with his eyes shut, breathing slowly. “I’m going to ask you to agree to something terrible,” Yuuri suddenly admitted, “and I want you to say ‘no’.”

“Yuuri, you know I’ll do anything for you,” Victor whispered. _Anything you ask for._

“Not what I wanted to hear right now.”

“What is it?” He opened his eyes and looked into Yuuri’s face.

“I’ve tried many things to draw out our enemy, or to just figure out who they are. And, frankly, I’ve had enough of informants sending me around in circles…” Yuuri hesitated and Victor gave him a frightened look, feeling his heart tremble. This was it. He knew it. “I want to… well, I don’t _want to_ , I’m thinking of using you as bait.”

 _Oh. That’s what it was._ He almost laughed and released Yuuri. “Alright.”

“ _Alright_? I’m proposing to put you in big danger, to let you get dragged off into the viper’s nest, and you say ‘alright’? Aren’t you scared in the slightest?”

“No. I trust you to protect me.”

“Damn right I will! But I’m not God. You might – damn it, I’ll do my best to make sure they don’t hurt you, Snowflake, but you shouldn’t just agree! You’re supposed to argue against doing it and I’m supposed to tell you that I’ve run out ideas.” He sighed and pulled a hand through his hair. Then he grabbed Victor by the arms. “Name your price, Victor. Anything you want. I’ll make it all up to you.”

Victor blushed. “But I already have everything that I want!” he considered Yuuri’s words and pulled him into an embrace. “Can we skate together at Worlds no matter which of us wins? I want to do a pair skate for our exhibition program.”

“You bet.” Victor’s arms tightened around Yuuri. “I love you,” Yuuri whispered, sliding his nose up against Victor’s cheek. “And I’ll try to say it more often in the future. Will that be enough?”

Victor buried his face in Yuuri’s neck.

Neither of them noticed when Yuri slipped away. In fact, it wasn’t until much later that they remembered about him at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like one of these days this fic will just sidle up to the explicit rating without me even noticing.


	43. Come Here

Night fell on the streets of St. Petersburg. The night had a thousand knives and who knew how many thousands of guns. The darkness was full of traps, each shadow potentially just an innocent shadow or a pit that opened up into a little hell. The sounds of the nightlife were muffled, as it was somewhere far away, somewhere in another world, somewhere you weren’t allowed to go.

A young man walked all alone, his eyes lowered.

Two figures followed the lonely person as nonchalantly as possible, as if they were just going for a casual stalking stroll together like anyone would on any given night. They avoided the light and to an outside observer looked merely like two dark, indistinct figures. More figures moved along the other side of the street.

“Spare some change?” a beggar asked one of the two figures and was punched in the gut for his efforts.

The beggar fell on the ground and lay there.

At the next intersection the lone man stopped a policeman and asked him for the time.

The roads were empty. It was late and the man rushed home.

But he didn’t make it there.

The strolling pair caught up with him, one on each side.

“Why don’t you come with us, Victor Nikiforov?” one asked.

“I-I don’t –”

“Sh!” the second figure put a hand over Victor’s mouth, a cloth in his hand. “We don’t want to wake the whole street, now do we?”

A car drove up to them and the two figures pushed Victor inside just as the whole world started to fade before his eyes.

Two streets away the policeman got back into his car and went home.

Three streets away a breeze pushed dust through the place where the beggar had fallen.

In the trunk of the car what looked like a pile of rags that bore an uncanny resemblance to the beggar that the two figures had kicked hid one of the world’s top figure skaters.

 

They tied Victor’s arms behind his back, as he discovered when he woke up in the car, half an hour later. As soon as his eyes opened, they pushed him out and forced him to walk across a courtyard and into an old building.

He stumbled along without a word. He wasn’t worried. Like before, he had complete faith in Yuuri. There was nothing to worry about. Definitely. And so he thought of his boyfriend as he walked on.

_“I’ll do my best to make sure they don’t lay a hand on you,” Yuuri said, “but don’t provoke them, just in case.”_

He tried to concentrate on walking, but he thought instead of the night before. Of the worry in Yuuri’s face as he talked about his plan. How Victor couldn’t focus on anything other than Yuuri’s features and his hands. How Yuuri had said that it could be their last night together (didn’t every night have the potential to be their last night together?). How he made love to Victor afterwards. And how Yuuri clung on to him in his sleep and rubbed his nose against Victor’s chest.

In the morning the bed beside him was empty.

He’d forgotten what it was like: waking up alone, before Yuuri, before he’d become a coach. It felt wrong now like some sort of crime. He and Yuuri, that was right. That was the way things should be –

The man behind him shoved him into a room and the door banged closed. Victor was left alone in the dark.

Seconds ticked by, then minutes. Victor sat with his back against a wall and thought of Yuuri. Oddly enough, in those minutes he didn’t think of Yuuri on top of him or even any embarrassing thing he did.

He thought of Yuuri two years ago.

 

“ _And next on the ice, representing Japan – Yuuri Katsuki!”_

_The fans screamed as Yuuri skated out onto the middle of the rink with a smirk on his face._

_“Marry me, Yuuri!” several fans chanted and Victor wished he could join in._

_Victor watched, a hand over his heart._

_“There you are!” Chris exclaimed, joining him. “I should’ve known I’d find you watching Yuuri Katsuki!”_

_Victor said nothing._

_Yuuri finished and smirked at the crowd. He got off the ice and walked past Victor as if he wasn’t there. He looked straight ahead, his expression cold._

_Victor felt his heart stop. The more he chased Yuuri, the less hopeful he got that Yuuri would ever notice him and he already knew that the victory on the ice would feel like an overall defeat. He would spend yet another night crying into Chris’s shoulder._

_Chris gave him a reassuring pat. “Listen,” he said, “if you’re too scared to go up to him, let me do it for you. I’m not intimidated by leather and a bad attitude.”_

_“It’s no use,” Victor whispered. “He’ll never talk to me. I don’t exist for him.”_

 

He remembered how on the morning after the Banquet he’d run to Chris’s hotel room and knocked until Chris opened his door. He couldn’t string enough words together to explain why he was happy. He could barely utter a proper sentence. But Chris had seen enough to understand.

Chris had always tried to talk him into approaching Yuuri and it never worked. But, for some reason, when Mila tried it, he dropped everything and…

A scream jolted Victor out of his memories. It was cut off abruptly, but it chilled Victor’s heart.

 _He’ll be fine. He can handle anything._ He conjured up the image of Yuuri, flying in to rescue him. Yuuri with his eyes blazing, with his kisses that burned and his sharp sarcasm that Victor was starting to find reassuring.

Yuuri had been frightened this time. He’d been worried. And Victor found that he worried too. He tried to tell himself it was going to be okay, but it wasn’t working.

Victor pressed his head against his knees. _Please find the one responsible, Yuuri. Please come out okay. I want to see you again. I want to be with you._ He wasn’t religious, but he actually stared up at the ceiling and prepared to pray that everything would turn out alright. It frightened him that Yuuri seemed less confident in the past few weeks.

 _Yuuri has good instincts,_ a voice whispered. _He knows how to react. He’s dealt with this sort of thing before. If he’s worried, then…_

His heart beat faster in his chest.

Footsteps in the hall broke the silence. The door swung open.

Victor scrambled away from it, as quietly as he could, keeping to the wall for some reason.

 _Maybe if they don’t see me, they won’t know I’m here_.

It was a stupid thought. All they had to do was turn the light on and they’d see him right there.

The light turned on.

 

They had Victor. Somewhere in this mad labyrinth trying to be a building they had Victor and Yuuri needed to find him. He needed to find him _now_.

He needed to see that smile. The one he was ready to kill people for.

 _I’ll kill you all,_ he thought. _I’ll kill every single one of you, if you don’t tell me… if you get in my way… I swear to God I will freaking kill you._

He swore under his breath. He swore aloud. He swore in different languages. He was so angry and _still_ he couldn’t find Victor.

His mind went into sadistic mode and painted nasty images inside his brain, in front of his eyeballs and he couldn’t unsee any of them.

“Victor!” he called out and ran. “Victor!”

Nothing. Just the goddamn echo.

Then a sound.

He stopped and listened. But, no, he must’ve imagined it.

And again. And again.

Someone was trying to sneak up on him. Yuuri spun around and floored them before they could do anything. Then he took in the thug. “Your boss around?”

“No.”

Yuuri rose to his feet, hauling the man up with him by his arm and twisting it. “Do I need to repeat my question?”

“Ow! No! No! He’s down the hall!”

“Are you sure?”

“Ow! My arm! Yes! Yes! You don’t need to twist it off!”

“Then lead the way.” Yuuri pushed the man ahead of him. After some thought, he gagged him with the rags he had left over from his beggar disguise

Precious seconds ticked away as they made their way to the room, as Yuuri opened the door carefully and took in the man sitting at a table in the corner, taking on the phone. This was too easy.

“Yes, boss. Will do, boss.” Even his conversation was really typical for a henchman.

He narrowed his eyes and watched the man for several seconds. Then he pulled out a knife and killed the gagged man with one quick thrust. The thug dropped to the ground with barely a sound.

Yuuri waited for the boss to hang up before pouncing on him. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket, flicked it open and brought the flame close to the man’s face.

“I know: you’re just an innocent thug who murders people because it puts food on the table. You have lots of mouths back home to feed and all that crap. Look I don’t give a damn about your dying old mom, or whatever. Tell me where Victor Nikiforov is _right now_ , or you’ll have a nasty accident you’ll never recover from.”

The man trembled like a leaf. “V-Victor?”

Yuuri hauled him up to his feet. “Take me to him and on the way you can explain where the hell everyone is.” He’d expected to have to kill lots of people and…

The walls of the room exploded with people all headed for him.

Yuuri swore.

The lighter fell out of his hand. Or maybe he dropped it.

 

There was a nasty man in the room with big yellow teeth and the grossest smile Victor had ever seen. He stood in the doorway, grinning as if his face was permanently stuck in that expression. “I’ve always wanted to meet a big legend. Can I have your autograph?”

Victor backed away further until he ran out of somewhere to back away into.

“Hey, I thought you gave your autograph to anyone who asked for it,” the man went on, swaying slightly on his feet.

_Is he drunk? Oh my god, there’s a gun in his hand!_

Victor tried to swallow down his terror, but it was no use.

And then smoke poured into the room, making the disgusting man double over into a coughing fit.

Victor struggled in his bonds, trying to free his arms. Curse the man that had tied them! He needed to cover his face from the smoke! How could he do it with his hands tied?

He stopped struggling. He was going to die. He was actually going to die in a fire and there was nothing he could do about it.

No. He wasn’t going to die like this! He just wasn’t!

It was time for him to do something. He looked around. But the room was completely devoid of any convenient sharp objects for him to cut his rope against. There were no windows for him to use as a way to escape and there was only one door. And it was blocked.

He could feel the smoke entering his lungs. He dropped to his knees and coughed.

_Yuuri! Yuuri where are you? You might be in the next room and you’ll never know…_

He gathered what air there was into his lungs and screamed out Yuuri’s name.

For the second time that night the world faded away…

 

Victor opened his eyes. He was still alive. The air was fresh and clean, or as clean as it got in a city. His limbs were untied and still intact. And then he realized he was in the back seat of a car.

He sat up, groaning.

“How are you feeling, Snowflake?”

Victor rubbed his head as he stared at the driver. “Yuuri!”

“Got it in one.”

“What happened to you?”

“They wanted to use me for target practice, so I turned them all into barbecue,” Yuuri answered, throwing a look at the rear-view mirror.

“What?”

Yuuri grinned. There were burns and cuts on his face, but there was the usual sparkle in his eyes. “They ambushed me, so I set their house on fire.”

Victor turned and stared out the back window, but the night was too dark and they’d already gone too far to see anything. Then he took in the car.

“Where did you…?”

“It’s the car they took you away in. Technically, me too, but they didn’t know that.” Yuuri laughed and turned into a dark alley.

He stopped the car and got out. “I have a guest in the back that I have a few questions for. I suggest you stay in the car. Getting up is a bad idea right now. You swallowed a lot of smoke by the time I found you, so you might feel a little dizzy.”

Victor opened the door and grabbed Yuuri’s arms. “Don’t leave me alone, please!”

“I’m going to be right here. I promise.” He pointed his thumb at the other end of the alley.

Victor released him and dropped back onto the seat. His head was still spinning. He closed his eyes and tried not to remember the terror he’d felt before passing out.

 

Torturing people was easy, in Yuuri experience. All it took was a strong stomach and no morals whatsoever. It helped to be a complete bastard with a watchful eye for when the victim screamed the most. A true sadist elevated it (or lowered it, how knew?) to a kind of sick science to get the pacing “just right” (whatever that meant).

Yuuri hauled the man he’d captured out of the trunk and carried him over his shoulder to the other end of the alley where Victor wouldn’t see him and where Yuuri could drop him unceremoniously on the ground. The man was tied and gagged. Yuuri pulled the gag out of his mouth and took out his pocket knife.

“Listen, you bastard, I have a knife, zero patience and a traumatized boyfriend waiting for me, so I’m going to make this quick. I’m going to start with your fingers and move on to your limbs. I will only stop when you start talking. Got it?”

“I’m not saying anything!” the man shouted and then screamed for help at the top of his lungs.

Yuuri kicked him. “Like I said: I don’t have the patience.”

He flicked open the sharpest blade and leaned over the man.

His prisoner resisted until Yuuri got to the fourth finger and then the pain got too much for him and he screamed out a name.

Yuuri backed away and stared at the man in surprise. Then he pulled out his gun and shot the man.

He returned to the car in a pensive mood.

“What was that?” Victor asked.

“That was the name of the bastard who wants us dead,” Yuuri explained and started the car.

Victor considered the name for some time. “I don’t think I know who that is.”

Yuuri laughed darkly.

 

When they came home Victor was the one who caught Yuuri against the wall in a kiss.

“I thought this was it,” he whispered and kissed Yuuri again. He slid a hand over his face. “Oh God, Yuuri! Look at you! I was so afraid I’d lose you!” He ran his hands over Yuuri’s chest. “I… I…” Suddenly he found he couldn’t put together a coherent sentence.

Yuuri pulled him into another kiss.

“I can’t lose you now! I chased you for so long,” Victor admitted, breaking the kiss. Now words were tumbling out of him all at once and he wasn’t even sure they were the ones he wanted to say. “I never had the courage to talk to you. I would never have talked to you if Mila hadn’t –”

“Mila?” Yuuri pushed Victor off him and Victor froze with a terrified look on his face. “I spent so long unable to figure out if you were sent by someone or not until I finally decided that no one can fake it all the time, no one could fake it so convincingly. I take you in and trust you completely and now you tell me _Mila_ sent you?”

“Yuuri –”

“No! Don’t come near me.” Yuuri backed away with his hands raised. “And I asked her for protection! Me! I practically _begged_ her to look after you and offered up myself in exchange and all this time you were working for her!” He stared up into Victor’s face. “I didn’t want this, any of this. I used to watch you skate and think of you as the ideal to aim for!” Yuuri scoffed. “I thought you were pure and innocent! The only thing I’ve ever felt guilty about was corrupting you, dragging you into my life!”

He pulled out his gun and aimed it at Victor’s chest. Victor remained absolutely still. He didn’t even dare to breathe.

Yuuri’s hand trembled and he lowered it. “Even now I can’t…” He turned away. “I look into your face and I can’t.”

“Yuuri! I don’t work for Mila! Honest! I was just watching that video of you skating my routine and wondering what it meant when she came up to me during practice. So I showed it to her and she said that you’re trying to get my attention, that you don’t have a coach anymore and that I should offer to be your coach. I was so upset, Yuuri! I’d lost all inspiration by that point and I was too scared to approach you.” Victor reached out instinctively, but then lowered his hands again. “She spent a long time talking me into it. It took her five whole hours.”

Yuuri turned around and raised his gun again. “Call her.”

“What?”

“I said: call her.”

Victor pulled out his phone and called Mila. Yuuri took it from him as soon as she picked up.

“Come here,” he said and hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if this ends up being nasty cliffhanger week for several fics. As compensation I offer up to write short drabbles, so feel free to send me a prompt/request to my Tumblr (http://witharthurkirkland.tumblr.com) and I’ll do my best! Alternatively there is also [Comes Love](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11858748/chapters/26774304), my Burlesque AU, which might make you feel better.


	44. Care to Explain?

When Mila arrived she found the front door of Victor’s apartment unlocked.

It was quiet. The door swung open soundlessly at her touch and she peered around it, expecting to be attacked, or, at the very least, dragged in by force.

But no one came.

She closed the door behind her, not locking it just in case she needed a quick escape and headed for the living room, unsure of what she would find.

Yuuri sat there, pointing a gun at Victor who sat on the couch in front of him. The expression on his face was hard to read. Victor’s eyes were lowered.

“Lock the door,” Yuuri ordered and she did.

“What’s going on?”

“I found your operative. Care to explain?”

“Victor is not working for me.”

Yuuri raised his eyebrows.

“It’s true. Think about it. Have you _ever_ met someone who can fake it like that? All the time? And I’m sure you see it more than anyone.” She stood in the middle of the room, hands crossed over her chest and a disapproving look on her face.

Yuuri’s expression was cold. He kept an eye on both of them as if expecting that any moment one of them would pull out a gun and try to shoot him.

Mila sighed. “Listen to me, Yuuri. I’ve watched Victor these last few years. I don’t know what you did, but you got his attention and he wouldn’t stop talking about you. He has all of your skating routines saved on his phone, for crying out loud! So I got fed up with watching from the sidelines and I told him to go and do something. Yakov was furious. I didn’t expect it to work so well –”

“Stop.” Yuuri stood up. “I don’t believe a word of it.” He looked at Victor. “Get up.” The skater obeyed. Yuuri handed him the gun. “If you’re not working for her, prove it: shoot her.”

“Yuuri –” Mila began.

“Shut up.”

She stood in front of Victor, looking calm, as he raised the gun and aimed for where he thought her heart was. She was calm. Yuuri wouldn’t let Victor shoot her, she was sure of it. No matter what he thought of Victor now, he wouldn’t let him have her death on his conscience.

Seconds ticked by, each a little eternity.

How long had it been?

Ten seconds?

Ten minutes?

Victor’s hand was steady. Sweat trickled down his brow and he moved his finger.

Yuuri snatched the gun away. “Alright, I believe you.”

“Yuuri!” they both exclaimed.

“Not _you_ ,” he told Mila. “I want the truth this time.” He dropped back onto the couch with a frustrated sigh. They watched him pull his fingers through his hair. “Well?” he asked Mila.

“I’ll make us some tea,” Victor volunteered. He retreated to the kitchen and Mila stared after him, wondering what he thought of everything that was going on.

She saw Yuuri’s impatient expression and dropped down on the couch beside him.

“Before you start, does Phichit know?” Yuuri asked.

“Yes.” Mila nodded.

“Of course he does. And he calls himself my friend!”

“Really, Yuuri, I think you’re overreacting.”

“So you sent Victor my way for what?” Yuuri fiddled with the gun absently in his hand. “To give me a weakness you could exploit?”

Mila reclined on the sofa, trying to act as if it was all nothing, as if Yuuri wasn’t intimidating her in the slightest. “When you went back home to Hasetsu you upset a lot of people – which is fine by me – but you also picked fights with pretty much everyone and the East route was starting to fall apart because suddenly the man responsible for bringing in the goods discovered that _some bastard_ killed his boss two days ago and decided to keep them for himself. So, naturally, they went to me and I promised I’d do something about it.”

Victor returned with two cups of tea and handed them one each. Yuuri put the gun on the table in front of him and drank his with a bitter smile on his lips as they stared at him.

“So you sent Victor.”

“He really _has_ been pining after you for several years.” Every single skater training under Yakov knew that. She wondered what Victor would do if he ever found out what they’d said behind his back.

“So I gather.”

Victor came back with tea for himself and sat down next to Yuuri. Yuuri put a hand on his knee.

“I have nothing to do with the assassins,” Mila assured him. “I’ve been trying to find out who’s behind them myself and –”

“Well, you haven’t succeeded thus far, have you?” Yuuri slid his hand up Victor’s knee, making him choke on his tea. “Sorry, Snowflake,” he apologized, but didn’t take his hand away.

“I-it’s fine.” His face was all red now.

“I have a name,” Yuuri told Mila.

“And you haven’t run off to send them to hell?” she asked. This didn’t sound like Yuuri at all.

“I need to plan my strategy first.” He saw Mila smile and went on, “Someone needs to keep Victor safe and now that I know that I can’t trust any of you, he’s coming with me.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“I’ll look after him. Besides,” he lowered his tea onto the table and put both hands on Victor’s knees, “he enjoys danger. You should’ve seen his face when I held him at gun point.”

Victor lowered his eyes.

“Who knows? I might get jealous of someone threatening to kill him.”

“Yuuri!” Victor protested.

Yuuri pulled his hands away and laughed. “Or we’ll just die together. You’ve wanted that for a long time, haven’t you, Snowflake?”

“I want to help,” Mila told him, her mind still full of Sara.

“Sure: one bullet through both of us –”

“I mean help get rid of the person who’s trying to kill you.”

Yuuri looked at her and then at Victor. “What do you think?”

Victor stared down at his cup. “I don’t know.”

“Should we trust her?” He shifted closer to Victor. “You’re pure of heart. Doesn’t that give you a magical insight into other people’s minds?”

“N-no.”

Yuuri laughed, but it still sounded bitter. “I was kidding.”

She thought about Sara and wondered if she would have done now what she’d done then. Now that she knew what love was.

A year ago she wouldn’t have given Yuuri any answer, she suddenly realized. She would’ve laughed and either removed him from the playing board, or twisted things around to make him obey her every whim anyway.

She probably would’ve threatened Victor, or had him killed if he proved too much of a distraction.

And now even she was going soft! All because of a girl she couldn’t be with.

Mila watched Yuuri touch Victor’s knees and felt jealous again. She had to go. She couldn’t stand seeing them so happy.

Even if at the moment they actually weren’t.

So she didn’t wait for Yuuri to tell her if he trusted her or not and returned to her thugs, her diamonds and illegal substances.

She returned to her territorial fights with the Crispinos like people returned to a bad habit.

 

They let Mila go home. Victor watched Yuuri curl up on the couch. He pulled his knees up and crossed his arms over his chest. It was obvious from every line of his body that he was upset.

Victor wanted to join Yuuri, but he was too scared to do so. He wanted to go hide in the kitchen, but he couldn’t take his eyes off his pupil.

The clock ticked on the wall, counting away the seconds as they passed.

Victor thought of their time together. _All this time he’s protected me. He won’t hurt me now. There’s nothing to be afraid of. I owe him my life, anyway, so if he wants to take it, he can._

He sat down on the floor at the foot of the couch and looked up into Yuuri’s face. “Are you mad at me, Yuuri?”

“I’m not mad at you,” he said quietly. “All this time I’ve been nothing more than a pawn in someone else’s game. As have you. This isn’t your fault.”

“I love you,” Victor said.

Yuuri had a bitter look on his face at those words. “You still do, don’t you?”

“Of course I do! Why wouldn’t I?

Yuuri lowered his feet, careful not to hit Victor, and reached out. “Come here, Snowflake.”

Victor climbed onto his lap eagerly. “I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered, taking Yuuri’s face in his hands. “I promise.”

“You’re an idiot,” Yuuri said, “I’m the one who should be making it up to you. It’s my fault you’re in this mess.” He ran his hands through his hair. “God, I thought _I_ was messed up! How screwed up do you have to be to come up with a plan like _this_?”

Victor took Yuuri’s hands and kissed them, first the left and then the right.

“Honey trap…” Yuuri whispered.

Victor caught Yuuri’s right glove with his teeth and pulled it off. Yuuri raised his left hand and Victor pulled the second glove off. Yuuri looked into Victor’s face.

“I’m yours,” Victor whispered, his voice trembling. He wished he could say it with the same strength of feeling Yuuri always had. “All yours and no one else’s.”

Yuuri reclined on the sofa and closed his eyes. “I’m not sure I’m in the right mood, Snowflake.”

It was quiet. A car drove by outside, blasting music loud enough for everyone within a two street radius to hear. The neighbours above them shouted abuse at the driver.

Victor ran his hands over Yuuri’s shoulders. “I love you,” he said as passionately as he could, “and I promise to never hurt you.”

Yuuri’s eyes snapped open. He sat up. “You really want some today, don’t you?”

“N-no.” Victor lowered his head. “I want you to know that…” It was too painful to continue. He sighed and took a breath. “…I’ll do my best, but if you think I’m your weakness, you can –”

“Hell, no!”

He covered his face with his hands, feeling the tears trickle down his cheeks. “Oh God, Yuuri, I don’t want something to happen to you because of me. I want you to be strong enough to keep fighting. I don’t want someone to use me to get through to you.” He pulled his hands down and forced himself to look into Yuuri’s face. “Promise me that if I ever get in the way, you will remove me.”

“How the hell do you want me to promise that?”

Victor embraced Yuuri, burying his face in his pupil’s neck. “If it’s my life or yours, I want you to kill me.”

“Okay, I’ve had enough. Bedroom it is, then.”

But Victor only clung tighter, unable to stop crying. “It’s all my fault!” he whispered. “If I hadn’t… If I hadn’t come to you, you would’ve been safe.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“But I showed her the video! I gave her the idea!” He raised his head and looked into Yuuri’s face. “I’m nothing more than a honey trap. And you promised to kill me, if I was one!”

Yuuri pulled him into a tight embrace. “Snowflake, you have _no idea_ what you’re doing to me right now.”

“But don’t leave me,” Victor whispered, “if you don’t feel safe with me, I’d much rather you killed me.”

“Shut up,” Yuuri growled. “Just stop talking. I’d rather you tried to force yourself on me than went on about this stupid crap.”

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Ugh! Not _again_! Stop saying that! I never want to hear you say that ever again!” He pulled Victor away and stared into his face. “Promise me you will never say that again.”

Victor lowered his eyes. “I promise.”

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” Yuuri said. “I’m not in the mood for anything right now, except maybe sleep.”

Victor got to his feet and held out his hands. Yuuri took them and pulled himself up.

“You’re not mad, Yuuri? You promise?”

“I promise.”

 

Yuuri stood in the shower as the water flowed over him and tried not to think. He hadn’t realized that there was a worse scenario than Victor dying.

He raised his hands and stared at the cuts on his fingers.

 

_They came for him all at once, so he dropped the lighter and made a run for it. Luckily for him, they’d left a convenient opening._

_It was a mad dash, going through room after room as the fire chased him._

_He didn’t have a lot of time. Victor had to be there somewhere._

_He had to be alive. He had to be okay._

_“Yuuri!” The scream was so full of agony that for a moment he didn’t recognize Victor’s voice._

_And then he sped up._

Yuuri blinked.

He hadn’t realized how weak he was until Victor mentioned Mila’s name and then he knew.

She’d broken him completely.

Suddenly the threat didn’t matter. He’d learned to live with it every day. Now he had to learn to live with the knowledge that he was a pawn. No, worse: a puppet and Mila was holding his strings.

He’d reacted instinctively as soon as soon as he heard her name. Just like the tired cliché, it had pierced him and everything hurt. He wanted to hurt someone.

All of the days and nights together had become nothing more than a farce and it didn’t matter that when he closed his eyes he felt Victor’s touch, or that he could remember his taste all too well.

But Victor stood before him with that innocent look on his face and Yuuri knew he couldn’t do it. No matter what he did, Yuuri couldn’t hurt Victor. Not intentionally, anyway.

So he did what he wouldn’t have done before: given them a chance to explain themselves.

 

Half an hour later they lay next to each other. Yuuri was in his pajamas and Victor was naked. They’d undressed without looking at each other, as if seeing each other take their clothes off was suddenly wrong for some reason. In fact, they didn’t look at each other until they both slipped under the blankets, having both taken a shower first.

Victor lay on his side, staring at Yuuri. “C-can you… can you hug me? I…”

Yuuri pulled Victor close. He was still shaken by what happened, but didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Victor shifted so that his head was buried in Yuuri’s chest. Neither of them said anything.

Sleep was impossible that night. Yuuri’s mind kept turning the same thoughts around over and over again, as if they were some sort of food that needed cooking from different sides.

“I would’ve killed her,” Victor suddenly whispered. “If you hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve shot her straight in the heart.”

“Chest,” Yuuri corrected him. He decided not to comment further on Victor’s knowledge of human anatomy. He frowned and tried to interpret Victor’s tone. “I’m glad I spared your conscience –”

“No,” Victor cut in. “I would’ve killed her, if you told me to and I wouldn’t have felt guilty about it.”

“Victor –”

“Don’t you see, Yuuri? I’ll do anything you ask for without stopping to think about it, I was only…” he hesitated.

“What?”

“I was only worried I wouldn’t be able to fire a gun properly.”

Yuuri laughed and it didn’t sound so bitter this time. “I’ve ruined you,” he whispered. “I’ve gone and ruined you.” He sighed. “And now I know we’re nothing more than pawns in some damn chess game.” One of his hands was in Victor’s hair while the other was curved around his back.

Victor clung on tighter, pressing his face into Yuuri’s chest so hard it almost hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 25 chapters later I finally answer the question of why Mila persuaded Victor to go to Yuuri... Tsk, tsk.


	45. But what would Yuuri Katsuki do?

How do you cultivate innocence? You can’t plant it and just watch it grow. Didn’t everyone start out with innocence and then lose it? Wasn’t that how it worked?

Yuuri tried to remember how he’d lost his and couldn’t. So he thought about Victor instead. And his thoughts returned to agriculture.

Innocence. Right.

Victor had done something odd several times now and it got Yuuri wondering. Was it him? Or – and here was a terrifying thought – was there something deep inside Victor himself? Like the fruit you sometimes got at the store: the outside is perfect and inviting, but bite into it and you’ll find a rotten core.

_“I would’ve killed her, if you told me to and I wouldn’t have felt guilty about it.”_

But the other day he’d accidentally hit someone and spent several annoying minutes apologizing. It was just words. It had to be. No. Victor was innocent through and through.

Yuuri lay in bed and stared at Victor’s sleeping face. Then he closed his eyes and drifted off.

 

The next morning found them both in a sour mood. Yuuri watched Victor cook breakfast. Judging by the expression on his face, he was more upset than Yuuri was.

_Nothing new there. Since when is sleep the cure-all for everything?_

Breakfast passed in a heavy silence. Dark thoughts hung in the air, daring both of them to be said. Victor was having trouble meeting Yuuri’s eye, no doubt feeling responsible for this too.

Yuuri’s patience ran out once they finished eating. “Ok, drop the dishes and let’s go.”

“Go where?” Victor asked.

Yuuri went to grab their helmets. “Anywhere. Pick the sappiest spot and let’s go there. See if it helps. World’s is coming up. I’ll be damned if I go out on the ice in this mood!”

Victor hesitated and Yuuri returned to the kitchen. “Well, coach? You coming to help me prepare for the competition or not?”

It was debatable whether it would help prepare for World’s, but this didn’t even seem to occur Victor. He nodded and went to get changed. It had amused Yuuri when he found out that Victor had at home clothes and going outside clothes. Yuuri had never bothered with that himself and didn’t really see the point.

He waited for Victor and headed for the door. “Come on. We’re skipping training today to deal with this. I’m not going to angst in some dark corner while it rains like some kind of character from a book!”

 

It looked like Victor and Yuuri didn’t plan to come to training. Mila sighed. Well, it was to be expected. It would’ve been strange, if they’d shown up and acted as if nothing had changed. Because it had. Oh _how_ it had!

But what would Yuuri do? He was always a bit of a wild card.

Phichit would blackmail his way out of anything. Guang Hong and Leo would shoot whoever was in the way. Otabek would find the most direct way to deal with what happened. She’d manipulate events to her advantage. But what would Yuuri Katsuki do?

He used to get into fights with everyone and this made him predictable, but ever since Victor came into his life Mila found his actions harder to anticipate. The previous night was a perfect example of that.

Had he become too unpredictable? Was it time to take him off the playing field?

Her mind was in favour, but her instincts told her she might yet find a use for him.

Yuuri Katsuki, no longer a free, indestructible agent, but one with a very obvious weakness. And an easy target at that.

“I knew that boy was a bad influence the moment I laid eyes on him!” Yakov shouted.

 _I bet you barely registered his presence the moment you laid eyes on him_ , Mila thought skeptically.

“Look what he’s done now! Where are they?” Yakov raged on.

Everyone stared at him, then exchanged glances that said “do you know?” and “how the heck should I know?”. Almost everyone.

Mila stepped forward. “Something came up,” she told Yakov, “and they need to deal with it now.”

“And what is it that’s important enough for Victor to miss practice?” Yakov demanded. “There’s barely any time left before World’s!”

“It’s personal,” Mila said. “I can’t say any more, coach. You’ll have to ask them yourself.”

Yakov sighed. “Alright. I’ll call him later and sort it out. Whatever it is. Now why are you all gawping at me for? _Your_ practice hasn’t been cancelled!”

 

The wind played with the folds in Victor’s shirt as he clung on to Yuuri. When he closed his eyes he felt as if he was flying. If flying included mad turns, hitting bumps in the road and stopping because of traffic.

It didn’t last long, though. Wherever Yuuri was headed, it seemed that they arrived.

“Well?” Yuuri asked after they stood still for several minutes and Victor still didn’t let go of him. “We’re here. Or would you rather keep going?”

 _I would_. Victor thought, climbing off the bike.

Yuuri took his helmet and headed for the entrance of...

Victor stared.

It was an ice cream cafe!

He would’ve expressed his surprise to Yuuri, if he hadn’t already disappeared inside. What could he do but join him?

He found Yuuri sitting at one of the tables, a menu in his hands. “They don’t have sarcasm-flavoured ice cream,” he told his coach. “I just checked.” He looked at the menu again. “Or snowflake-flavoured ice cream either. Shame.”

Victor sat down.

“I already know what to order,” Yuuri told him, pushing the menu away from him.

A waitress came up to them and Yuuri ordered an ice cream sundae in Russian.

Victor wondered if he’d ever find the courage to tell Yuuri how he felt each time he heard Yuuri speak Victor’s native language. It was time to learn some Japanese, he realized.

Five minutes later the waitress brought a big sundae and left.

There were two spoons sticking out of it. It was coated in chocolate syrup with caramel and sprinkled with nuts.

“Well?” Yuuri asked.

“A-are we going to share?” Victor whispered and felt stupid the moment the question left his lips.

“If you want the whole thing, go ahead.” The question had offended Yuuri and Victor wondered how to apologize.

He scooped up a spoonful, raised it and then an idea occurred to him and he held it out to Yuuri.

Yuuri caught Victor’s outstretched arm halfway between his elbow and wrist as his mouth closed over the spoon. His eyes remained fixed on Victor’s the whole time.

Victor didn’t move, as if hypnotized by that stare, which, in a way, he supposed he was.

Yuuri smirked, used his spoon to scoop up the next bit and offered it to Victor.

They went back and forth and each time Victor slid closer to Yuuri, until their thighs touched and one of Yuuri’s arms was around him.

“You have some on your face,” Yuuri said and reached out with his hand.

Victor was suddenly aware of the fact that Yuuri’s thumb was in his mouth. Victor’s lips closed over it as he closed his eyes. Yuuri shifted closer and Victor could feel his breath on his face. He waited for a kiss, but Yuuri pulled his finger out of Victor’s mouth and scooped up more ice cream.

Victor wished he had the courage to grab Yuuri’s hand and stick it back in his mouth.

When the ice cream ended Victor felt disappointed. He put his head on Yuuri’s shoulder and whispered, “Can we order more?”

Yuuri chuckled. “You’re really getting it today, Snowflake. And I promise it’ll be better than ice cream.”

Victor tried to hide his blush by burying his face in Yuuri’s neck, but it was no good. Yuuri knew him well enough to anticipate his reaction. And he already knew what Yuuri would do next.

“Let’s go,” Victor whispered, beating Yuuri to it.

“Do you think you could whisper it seductively into my ear?” Yuuri asked.

Victor’s heart beat faster, but he raised a hand and took Yuuri’s face. “Let’s go,” he breathed out and waited for Yuuri’s reaction.

Yuuri pulled away, got up, tossed money onto the table and headed for the exit. Victor followed without a word.

For the first time since they’d met the motorcycle ride felt really long, almost too long, to Victor. He clung on tightly, willing Yuuri to go faster and his pupil did.

They rushed up the stairs, forgetting about the elevator. Victor, who’d gotten a head start by getting off the motorcycle first, got to the door and opened it before Yuuri made it to their floor. He tossed the key aside and pulled off his shoes when he felt Yuuri catch him and turn him around.

Yuuri pushed him against the wall, his mouth pressed against Victor’s.

“Door...” Yuuri said, pulling away and Victor realized he’d been unzipping his pants while Yuuri kissed him all while the door was still open.

He blushed.

Yuuri locked the door and caught Victor in a second kiss. He tossed Victor’s pants down and then threw his own off impatiently.

“All these stupid clothes,” he muttered, pulling away.

Victor laughed. “It’s almost summertime, so –”

“Summer? Do you think the weather here knows that? Do you ever get summer in St. Petersburg? A proper one, I mean?”

Victor lowered his eyes. “N-not really. Mostly rain.”

“Looks like it’s down to me to heat things up, then.” Yuuri pulled off his jacket and his shirt. He headed for the bedroom. “Don’t bother picking anything up,” he told Victor over his shoulder. “We –”

Victor caught up with him, embracing him from behind and burying his face in Yuuri’s shoulder. “Yuuri, I…”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Yuuri spun around. “C’mere.” He caught Victor in an embrace. “Have you counted how many times you’ve confessed to me?”

“N-no...”

“193.”

“What? Really?”

“No. I just made the number up at random. What do you think, Snowflake?” Yuuri pulled Victor’s shirt off.

Victor stared at Yuuri, conscious of how messed up his hair was. He raised his hands and tried to flatten it down. “A-about what?”

“Do you think it’s more or less than that?” Yuuri sat Victor down on the bed and then crouched down in front of him to pull his underwear off.

“I-I don’t know... More? ...O-or maybe less?”

Yuuri spread Victor’s legs and moved closer. Victor lowered his hands onto Yuuri’s shoulders, or maybe they just dropped of their own accord, unable to stay up any longer.

 

Yuuri felt Victor’s fingers on his shoulders and shifted closer. If his mouth hadn’t been full at the moment, he might’ve asked Victor to spread his legs wider just to see his reaction.

Victor didn’t faint now and Yuuri was fairly certain that nothing would make him faint. Mostly certain. Very certain. Almost completely certain. Alright, he had to admit that there was still that small percentage of doubt.

He pulled away and stared up into Victor’s face. “I think I found something much more delicious than ice cream.”

Victor blushed deeper.

“What? Nothing to say? No ‘of course, Yuuri! What did you expect from a living legend and the most beautiful man on the planet’? No?” He ran his hands over Victor’s thighs as he stared up into his face. “How do you put up with me?” he asked jokingly.

“Wh-why do you ask that?”

“Because so much of what I say shocks you. Like right now, for instance.” _Still shocks you_ , he thought with some surprise.

“What do you want me to say?” Victor asked.

“‘Take your clothes off’ is a good one, so is ‘come here, Yuuri’.” Yuuri thought more about this. “There must be another option. What would _I_ say?”

“Are we going to just sit like this all day, or will you have sex with me?” Victor flushed as Yuuri stared at him. “Th-that’s what you would say... I think.”

“True.” Yuuri stood up and leaned over Victor. “You know,” he whispered, his nose touching Victor’s, “you very nearly got my tone of voice right too...”

Victor reclined on the bed and Yuuri dropped on top of him.

He could tease Victor some more, or he could kiss him over and over again, catching different parts of his face each time. Yes, he’d rather do that.

Victor’s hands were on Yuuri’s shoulder blades, holding him down.

“Do you want to be on top?” Yuuri whispered into Victor’s ear.

“I think you should –” Victor whispered back. “I-I mean if you want to.”

“Only if you ask me to take my underwear off.”

“Take your underwear off, please.” Victor released Yuuri.

Yuuri sat up. “That was fast.” _You didn’t even stop to blush or stutter!_

He pulled it off and then an odd thought occurred to him. _Better than ice cream, huh?_

“I should’ve brought some ice cream with me,” he said, leaning over Victor.

“W-why?”

Yuuri told him

Victor put his hands over his face.

“I’m such a disappointment, I know,” Yuuri said with a smirk. “I’ll need to remember it next time.” His mouth was on Victor’s chest along with his hands. “For now, you’ll just have to use your imagination.” He certainly would. And his tongue.

They lost track of time afterwards, focusing only on each other. Yuuri, who’d figured out a while back what Victor liked, didn’t hold back, determined to have Victor moan the whole time. And Victor, who’d figured out what was expected of him, obliged.

Words like “please” and “more” sounded over and over again. Pretty soon Yuuri added another word.

_Mine._

And Victor’s answer came right away without a second to stop and think, without even hesitation. “Yes.”

When he finished and lay down onto his back, Victor leaned over him. Yuuri opened his mouth to say “your turn”, but Victor caught him off guard. He took Yuuri’s hand and kissed it.

“Thank you.”

“The pleasure was all mine. Really.” He tried to make it sound like it was nothing. It was a little bit difficult: he was all red and slightly out of breath himself.

“That’s not what I meant. Thank you for not leaving me.” There were tears in Victor’s eyes. He pressed Yuuri’s hand to his face. “I didn’t think you’d still love me after you found out.”

Yuuri raised his free hand and put it around Victor’s head. “I couldn’t hate you – ah, hell, I couldn’t stop loving you, if I wanted to, Snowflake.”

Victor closed his eyes. For a while neither of them said anything.

“C-can we go skate together?” Victor asked, opening his eyes. “I mean, can we practice our exhibition program?”

“If you like,” Yuuri agreed.

“I know I can’t ask you for anything, but I still want to compete in pair skating with you.”

Yuuri laughed. “Everyone else would be at an unfair disadvantage, Snowflake. But that’s just life.” He pulled Victor down. “If you want it so badly, you need to figure out how to ask me, so that I’d be unable to say ‘no’.” He ended this piece of advice with a kiss.

 

Yakov watched everyone leave practice and sighed. Training was done for the day, which meant that it was time to call Victor and find out what horrible thing Yuuri had done this time. He was used to doing all sorts of things for his pupils, treating them like his children.

Maybe that’s why he never had any children of his own.

He tried not to think of his marriage to Lilia.

Once they’d been very happy together. Now he wondered if there was a chance that could happen again. There were days when he thought he’d glimpsed something and hope bloomed in his chest, but maybe it was nothing more than wishful thinking on his part.

He reached for his phone in his pocket only to find it wasn’t there.

Damn! He’d forgotten it inside!

With a muttered curse he turned and headed back inside the building. He didn’t bother looking in the change room and went straight to the ice rink.

It wasn’t empty.

Yuuri held Victor up over his head as they went around. Then he lowered him so that Victor could rest his legs against Yuuri’s side as they went on.

Victor tried to get down, messed up and they very nearly fell, catching each other at the last moment.

Victor stopped and broke out into laughter. Yuuri circled him with a smirk.

“Well, five-time champion? Did you forget how to skate?” he teased.

There was more laughter at that.

“Let’s start from the beginning,” Victor suggested.

Only then did Yakov realize they were skating to music. He watched Victor put it on from the beginning and wondered when they would notice they had an audience.

The song started playing and Yakov knew this was the exhibition skate they planned for World’s. It was nothing like the one they’d done for the Grand Prix Final.

The skate got off to a clean start as they went around together, perfectly in sync, reminding Yakov of a phrase he’d used himself when training pairs.

It looked like they were breathing together.

But then came the first lift and their timing was off and they landed on the ice in a heap.

“Watch your timing,” Yakov exclaimed, making them turn.

Yuuri scowled and Yakov couldn’t help thinking how much he reminded him of Yuri Plisetsky. Victor had a slightly terrified look on his face. But the old coach wasn’t going to be thrown off by either of their reactions.

“Get up and try it again,” he said.

Yuuri climbed to his feet and pulled Victor up after him. They skated over to Yakov.

“Alright, old man, you have my attention,” Yuuri said, folding his arms over his chest.

 _He is a lot like our Yuri_ , Yakov thought. _Maybe that’s the trick to dealing with him._ He explained how the lift was done as calmly as possible. Then he added, “I’m not sure that’s the lift you want. Do you want to skate the entire routine and maybe I can suggest something better?”

He looked at Yuuri, knowing he’d be the one to make the decision. To his surprise, Yuuri redirected the question to Victor.

“Well, coach? How do you feel about stepping aside for your coach?”

Yakov watched Victor’s face assume a serious expression. “Yakov has experience in coaching pairs,” he told Yuuri.

There was a sly smirk on Yuuri’s face at those words. He elbowed Victor, raising an eyebrow.

Victor nodded in response, his face still serious. “I would.”

“Would _he_ , though?” Yuuri asked.

“I’m right here,” Yakov said, “why don’t you ask me?”

“Yakov, will you coach Yuuri and me for our exhibition skate?” Victor asked.

Yakov paused, as if considering. He gave Yuuri a critical look. “Only if the two of you explain why you missed practice this morning.”

Victor opened his mouth, but Yuuri beat him to it. “It’s private,” he said, “and has nothing to do with you. I don’t ever stick my nose in your personal life, so I don’t want you sticking yours into mine.” He shifted forward. “Unless you want to lose it, of course.”

Yakov saw Victor nod, his eyes fixed on the ground. _Looks like they had a fight. Victor feels guilty about it, for some reason._ Yuuri’s hand wrapped around Victor’s shoulders and he pinched Victor’s cheek with his other hand. Victor raised his eyes and smiled.

“I know,” he said to Yuuri.

“Alright,” Yakov grumbled. “Fine. Don’t tell me. As long as it doesn’t happen again. No slacking off and stay focused on the practice, got it? I’ve had enough of you distracting each other.”

“Yes, sir,” Yuuri said in a mocking tone. “Well, Snowflake? From the beginning?”

Victor nodded.

Yakov watched them go through their whole routine, having no doubts who’d picked the music this time. He caught the way they looked at each other, the way Yuuri caught Victor when he nearly fell and how carefully he lowered him after lifts.

He sighed. A bit of chemistry between skaters always helped, but when the feelings between them were strong they would inevitably get in the way.

On the ice the skaters gripped each other’s hands tightly. The living legend bent over backwards and gave Yakov a very enthusiastic upside-down grin. Yakov’s pupil was drunk out of his mind and alcohol wasn’t to blame.

And then he saw the smile on Yuuri’s face.

They were both drunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep hearing rumours that people hesitate to leave comments because they think it’s annoying the writer, or something. Feel free to leave any comment you like. If you’re too shy to do it here, then swing by [my tumblr](http://witharthurkirkland.tumblr.com/) and drop me an anonymous message. Honestly, us fic writers live for comments. And I, for my part, promise to respond to all of them.


	46. You’ll Never Love Anyone Else, Right?

“According to the media, the biggest intrigue of this season is which of the two of us will win,” Yuuri said in a bored tone of voice, reading an article on his phone.

It was their last morning in St. Petersburg before they had to leave for World’s. Yuuri sat in the kitchen, throwing occasional looks at Victor who was washing the dishes after breakfast.

“Not much of an intrigue after the way you begged for mercy last night,” Yuuri went on. He’d said the words as nonchalantly as he could as he scrolled through his email.

Victor coloured. “Th-that’s not the same!” he protested.

Yuuri raised his eyes and looked at him. “No?”

“Not at all,” Victor said, reaching for the next dish.

“You know, I have a very good view of you from here.”

Victor’s face got redder.

“In fact, this might be the best one. Or maybe the one I had last night was the best one…”

Victor bent over the dishes, as if they suddenly became very fascinating.

“That’s the one!” Yuuri said, taking in Victor from where he sat. He reclined in his seat and tried to think about how he’d put his tongue to good use the night before and not at all about the threat that hung low over both their heads.

Strictly speaking, Victor hadn’t begged for mercy.

 

_It was a mischievous thought and probably a very bad idea, but Yuuri couldn’t resist. Was it possible to do something that was just a little too much for Victor to take?_

_The answer, as it turned out, was yes._

_“Yuuri… please…” he gasped, “I can’t…” From the sounds of it, he was having trouble breathing and Yuuri pulled away in alarm._

_Making Victor moan from pleasure was one thing, but having him so overwhelmed he couldn’t breathe at all was quite another._

_He turned Victor over and prepared to apologize. Instead he took in the expression on Victor’s reddened face._

_“You stopped…” Victor whispered in surprise._

_“I was starting to think you were going to pass out,” Yuuri said. He felt his own heart hammer in his chest in terror, but he was damned before he would admit to feeling anything like fear, so, as always, he settled for bravado instead. He licked his lips. “Yuuri Katsuki getting a little too much for you?”_

_Victor covered his face with his hands as he fought for air._

Damn, I overdid it. Damn! Damn!

_He wondered what he was supposed to do now. Should he leave Victor alone to deal with it? Or was he supposed to do something else?_

_“You can keep going,” Victor whispered after several minutes of gasping for air._

_“What?”_

_Victor lowered his hands and met Yuuri’s eyes. “I said you can keep going.”_

_Yuuri placed a hand on the bed on either side of Victor’s head and leaned over him so that their noses touched. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Besides, I want you to ride me.”_

_That was one thing he was starting to insist on more and more: switching._

_“A little longer, please,” Victor asked._

_Yuuri took Victor’s face in his hands. “Are you sure?”_

_Victor nodded. He closed his eyes as Yuuri slid his thumbs over his cheeks. Yuuri sat down on top of him._

_And then Victor asked a question Yuuri hadn’t expected. “You’ll never love anyone else, right?”_

_“What kind of a question is that? Why the hell would I be interested in anyone else?” His hands trailed over to Victor’s chest. “Why are you asking, Snowflake? Would you get jealous?” It was his usual tease and one that never got a proper response._

_Victor’s eyes snapped open. “Yes!”_

_It was the most emphatic ‘yes’ Yuuri had ever heard._

 

In the here and now, Yuuri sat in their kitchen and thought of the ‘yes’ as he browsed the internet on his phone. He raised his eyes and watched Victor turn the radio on and sing along to the first song that came on. It was something terrible and sappy, judging by the few words that Yuuri managed to make out.

He let Victor sing for another minute before standing up and approaching him as soundlessly as he could. He reached out and made a grab for him.

“Y-Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed.

He smirked, refusing to let Victor go. He wasn’t just making a grab for Victor this time. He was really feeling him up: sliding his hands down a little bit and then back up again and squeezing when he saw fit. Now wasn’t there a joke about massages that could he make at this point?

Victor blushed deeper, turned around and caught Yuuri’s arms above the elbows. “Yuuri,” he breathed out, “can we go for a bike ride?”

They were taking a resting day from practice, which probably meant it was time for another sappy date. Yuuri took in the look in Victor’s eyes and realized what exactly his boyfriend was asking for. _Damn it, Snowflake! You really get off on this stuff, don’t you?_

“I’ll drive us into the shadiest part of town,” Yuuri promised in a whisper, eyes gleaming, leaning in towards Victor’s neck.

 

Yuuri Katsuki was death on wheels (when on his bike, at least, otherwise he was just death on a pair of legs). He was a storm, sweeping into the middle of the crowd and destroying every person in his wake, firing bullet after bullet at the people around him. If anyone ever wanted to make an ad to promote murder, Yuuri was the model to use: he could make killing look attractive and as dramatic as a movie trailer. And it wasn’t just all for show: he could take his target out in a matter of seconds, barely breaking out into a sweat. And if he did sweat…

Victor wished he could look away. He stood next to the bike, where Yuuri had left him with the instruction to stay put, watching Yuuri take several men on. Victor’s mouth dropped open as he followed the progress of a bead of sweat trickling down Yuuri’s brow.

_I want to spend my whole life watching you take people out and then I want to be the one mopping the sweat off your forehead._

Sensing Victor’s eyes on him, Yuuri turned around. Victor put his hand over his heart as if he’d been hit as well. And perhaps he had.

Yuuri reloaded his gun and shot someone behind him without taking his eyes off Victor.

The noises died down in the street. All Victor could hear was the sound of Yuuri’s footsteps as the skater walked towards him. His heart beat faster as Yuuri closed the distance between them.

He stopped several steps away and wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “Would you look at that? I actually broke out into a sweat. And here I thought only you could make me sweat.” He smirked.

Victor blushed.

“Will you?” Yuuri asked.

He swallowed. “Will I what?”

Yuuri was right there in two strides. He put an arm around Victor and whispered into his ear, “Will you make me sweat, Snowflake?”

Victor’s face turned redder. He licked his dry lips and nodded.

Yuuri took his face in his hands and kissed him. Victor’s eyelids dropped on their own as he responded. He stepped back against the bike as Yuuri let himself get carried away.

Once Victor had listened to Chris give a whole lecture about the taste of a person, after which the Swiss skater went on in great detail about what his boyfriend tasted like. As far as Victor could remember it was something along the lines of “wine and roses” and sounded completely made up.

But, somehow, Yuuri tasted like danger. Or what Victor always associated with danger, anyway. He had no idea what that meant, but that would’ve been the description he would have given to anyone who demanded one. In other words: if Chris ever brought the topic up again, Victor had his answer ready.

And then an odd question formed in his mind.

He pulled away. “Yuuri, wh-what do I taste like?”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m curious.”

Yuuri considered this. “Like any human mouth, probably. And sometimes you taste like sugar.” He thought some more about his answer. “I’m pretty sure I already told you that.”

“What do I taste like now?” Victor whispered.

Yuuri laughed and pocketed his gun. “Delicious.”

 

The World Championship came upon them like any event for which you spent all your time preparing only to figure out at the last second that you may not be as ready as you thought.

All the usual suspects were there and Phichit caught up with Yuuri right after practice to invite him to dinner with the top skaters “except for JJ. I think little Yuri hates him” and Yuuri accepted with a shrug.

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

This year World’s was in Toronto and Yuuri took Victor on a motorcycle ride along the lake (or as much along the lake as buildings and little parks would allow) to while away the time before dinner.

He was lost in thought the whole ride. Were they safe for the duration of the competition? About as safe as swimming with sharks was, based on the evidence available. Could he protect Victor? Of course! He would have to: it was either that or an early grave for the both of them.

He’d confronted Phichit about Mila as soon as he saw him, but all he got in response was a shrug and a pathetic excuse.

_“I wasn’t in on the whole thing. By the time I figured it out, you were declaring your love for each other on live television, so I decided not to bother. It would only have made things worse.”_

Yuuri had nothing to say to that. Back then he probably would’ve shot Victor if he’d found out. This wasn’t a pleasant thought at all. No matter how hypothetical it was, he didn’t want to think about shooting Victor, the very same who was currently clinging on to Yuuri as tightly as possible.

He pulled over. Through some coincidence, they stopped in a place with a nice view and so, to an outside observer, it probably looked like they’d stopped to admire their surroundings. Yuuri felt Victor’s hands shift to his shoulders. He took his helmet off and closed his eyes as a breeze blew into his face. But the feeling couldn’t compare with the feel of Victor’s lips on his cheek several seconds later.

 

Who didn’t like a friendly dinner between friends? Yuuri Katsuki, who else? And one, 6-time European champion, 5-time world champion, 5-time grand prix champion, and you-know-the-drill, Victor Nikiforov, as it turned out. Yuuri watched him fidget and wondered what the problem was this time.

They’d walked into the restaurant to the cries of “The God Eros has arrived!” and then everyone had burst out laughing. Yuuri acted as if nothing had happened, but there was still a satisfied smile on his face. Victor had merely nodded to show his agreement.

Now Yuuri rested his chin in his hand pretending to listen to Phichit’s funny story about something. Yuuri tuned him out after the second word. He watched Victor’s face, trying to guess what was on his mind.

Victor was trying to make conversation with Chris, but it was obvious his heart wasn’t in it.

When they brought out the food Victor ate without his usual enthusiasm.

Yuuri tried to work out what could possibly be bothering his coach this time. Practice had gone reasonably well that morning. He’d seen the way Yakov watched him after the shooting at the ice rink. It looked like his coach’s coach had figured a few things out. It was also obvious that the man was getting less sleep than he used to. Yuuri decided not to push any more of his buttons. For now.

His mind turned back to Victor. In all their time together they hadn’t fought, not even once. Maybe all of that stuff about couples fighting was nothing more than a lie? Or did this mean that they were due a big fight any moment now?

It was a stupid thought, so instead he tried to imagine what Victor could be thinking at the moment. This required some serious adjustments to his own mind. He thought how Victor had avoided looking at him throughout the entire dinner. What was that supposed to mean?

“Victor, you’re not listening to me, are you?” that was Chris. “Are you alright?”

Everyone stared at Victor. The brighter people at the table threw a look at Yuuri.

“I’m fine, really,” he assured them with a smile, completely unfazed by becoming the centre of attention so quickly.

_No. He’s really bothered by something. He’s practically beating himself up over it._

He watched Victor move food around his plate: a thing he never did.

That was the last straw. Yuuri felt his patience run out. He pulled Victor towards him by the arm. “What the hell is the problem, Victor?” he hissed inches away from his ear.

The figure skating legend tore his eyes away from the plate and looked into Yuuri’s face.

_Oh._

Yuuri smirked.

Dinner was well underway. His half-eaten dish was getting cold, but it wasn’t as cold as the expression with which Yuuri regarded it.

_Right._

He tossed his napkin onto the table and got up.

Everyone stared at him.

“Where are you off to?” Yuri asked.

“I have something I need to deal with and Victor is coming with me. I’ll see you all tomorrow when I will beat all of you.” He stopped in the doorway. “Come on, Snowflake, I don’t have all day.”

Victor rose from his spot, sliding his chair back slowly. Yuuri walked out, his hands in his pockets with the air of someone going for a casual stroll. He stopped outside and waited for Victor to step out before grabbing him by the arm and pulling him aside.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Yuuri whispered.

“B-because it’s so embarrassing!” Victor covered his face with his hands.

“Ugh, not that again. It’s so embarrassing, Yuuri! I’m in love with you and it’s so embarrassing. I want you to take my clothes off and have sex with me and it’s so embarrassing!” Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Anything else?”

Victor remained silent.

“Follow me,” Yuuri said, walking towards his bike.

They went out into the middle of the parking lot before Yuuri found a pillar and leaned against it. “Listen,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest, “I can’t go out with you, if you keep getting embarrassed about –”

He hadn’t expected Victor to plunge for him, but plunge he did. And so Victor caught Yuuri’s mouth just as he caught Yuuri off guard. Yuuri recovered quickly and made a grab for the living legend.

After a while Victor pulled back. “I-It’s so embarrassing that I’m… that I’ve won so many competitions and I’m used to spending time with other skaters, but now…” He lowered his head on Yuuri’s shoulder as he embraced his pupil. “I don’t want to be with any of them. I want it to be like at the Grand Prix. I want it to be just us,” he concluded, his voice dropping to a whisper.

Yuuri chuckled. “Well, I’ll be, Snowflake.”

“I’m a selfish and terrible person. I wanted you all to myself. I still,” he took a breath and kept going, “I still want you all to myself. But there are other skaters and you want to see them. I understand and –”

“Well, well.”

“I’m serious, Yuuri. I really want you right now,” Victor whispered. “You have no idea how good-looking you are, especially right after practice.”

_Oh yes, the good old sweaty boyfriend look._ “Kiss me again,” Yuuri said, “and let’s go back.”

“B-back?” He raised his head and stared into Yuuri’s face.

“Don’t look like that,” Yuuri pinched his cheek. “I meant our hotel room. I got bored of the dinner in the first five minutes.” _Who the hell needs the other so-called top world skaters anyway? Only the top two matter!_

Victor’s face split into a smile.

 

They rode back in complete silence, deciding that nothing more needed to be said on the subject. The silence went on through their walk back into the hotel, through their wait for the elevator and even as they stepped inside it.

The elevator doors closed and just as Yuuri contemplated grabbing Victor right there he felt his coach catch him. He snatched his hand away as soon as he touched Yuuri.

“No, no,” Yuuri shook his head, “you’re doing it all wrong. Here, let me show you.”

It’s difficult to say what would’ve happened if they had a room on, say, the hundredth floor, or even the fiftieth (which is far more than the number of floors the hotel actually had), but the elevator ride ended just as Yuuri’s arm stretched out towards Victor.

He took Victor’s arm instead and pulled him out. And got a kiss for his efforts.

They stood in front of the elevator, apparently forgetting that this wasn’t the best spot for stopping, let alone doing anything else. Yuuri pulled his fingers through Victor’s hair.

“Yuuri…” Victor whispered, pulling away at last. “I…uh…” He looked around him, blushing like someone who’d suddenly remembered where they were.

“Come on, we’re almost there,” Yuuri grabbed him by the elbow and led him to their hotel room.

“I have the key right here,” Victor pulled his out of his pocket.

Yuuri made sure to close the door behind him before pushing Victor against the wall. He snatched another kiss as his hands worked down the buttons of Victor’s shirt. He pulled it apart and his lips travelled down to his coach’s chest.

“Yuuri!” Victor gasped.

Was he shocked? Was he pleased? Yuuri didn’t know: he was too busy running his hands over Victor’s chest to the accompaniment of his lips.

“Yuuri!” the gasp was louder this time.

“What is it?” Yuuri pulled away.

“Take me,” Victor pleaded.

Yuuri chuckled and ran a hand down into Victor’s pants. “Yuuri Katsuki never leaves his boyfriend unsatisfied.”

He watched Victor blush and waited to see what he would do. “Please don’t tease me, Yuuri,” Victor breathed out.

It took some concentration, but Yuuri got Victor’s pants unzipped and then he dropped to his knees to pull them down. “I don’t know if against the wall is going to be comfortable, Snowflake.”

“I don’t care,” Victor whispered. “Just…” He pulled his underwear down. Yuuri helped him get it off and smiled up into Victor’s face.

“Then again,” he said, “the bed _is_ right behind me.” He stood up and caught Victor’s mouth in another kiss.

Victor pulled him closer and Yuuri dragged him towards the bed. And then he realized the Victor was unzipping his jacket and pulling it off.

“God, Snowflake!” Yuuri exclaimed.

“I don’t want you to hold back,” Victor whispered, undoing Yuuri’s pants.

“You certainly aren’t,” Yuuri said, a note of amusement in his voice. “You want to keep going and be on top first, maybe?”

“Yuuri, I…” Victor blushed.

“I will take that as a ‘yes’.”

 

Yuuri lay with the pillow under his back, feeling sweat trickle down his forehead, but it wasn’t because the blankets were too thick (which they weren’t).

Victor stuck his head out from under the blankets, his hands on Yuuri’s chest. There was a big smile on his face.

Yuuri wondered, not for the first time, if an expression of innocent joy after 30 minutes of sex was normal and decided that he didn’t care. It was normal for Victor, in any case.

He raised one hand and slid his fingers over Victor’s cheek. Victor closed his eyes.

“Yuuri…”

“Hmm…”

“Yurochka…”

“Hmm…”

“Yuren’ka…”

He was starting to lose track of the number of variations on his name Victor had come up with.

“Viten’ka…” he whispered, deciding to respond properly this time.

Victor lowered his head onto Yuuri’s chest. “Yuuri,” he whispered again, tracing out a circle with his finger on Yuuri’s skin, “can you… can you call me babe again?”

“If you like,” Yuuri smirked, “…babe.”

“In front of others,” Victor added, blushing.

“Only if you do all that all over again.”

 

Any other self-respecting narrative would’ve included little clues for the protagonist to find and for any detectives among the readers to piece together into an explanation of the who and the why behind the attacks on Yuuri Katsuki, but not here. Life seldom leaves a convenient trail of clues and even then what good are clues?

There was a man with a gun hidden on his person. Did that automatically make him the killer? So he also happened to be climbing up the wall of a hotel building. So what? Maybe he was a guest who forgot or lost his keys and was too shy to ask at reception. And so what if he was climbing into the window of the room where Yuuri Katsuki and Victor Nikiforov slept? Maybe he got the room wrong. And just because he stuck his hand in his pocket didn’t mean that he was reaching for his gun –

Well, maybe in this case it did. But it’s still unfair to jump to conclusions.

Yuuri returned the gun to his pocket and watched Victor sleep for several seconds. (See what we mean about jumping to conclusions?)

Yes, it was possible to climb in through the window, as he’d just tested out himself. It was also entirely possible for him to sneak up on Victor and pull out a gun without waking up his boyfriend.

Alright, Yuuri considered, maybe if your boyfriend fell asleep from exhaustion he could be excused sleeping through someone sneaking into the room.

Yuuri closed and locked the window, took his clothes off and slipped in next to Victor.

“Hmm…” Victor turned over towards him in his sleep.

Yuuri shifted into the position he wanted to wake up in and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can blame this entire chapter on the song [Hot Damn by Ivy Levan](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sAxzkViLCH0).  
> Also, in case you missed it, [Interview Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11248713/chapters/25143588) got an epilogue.


	47. You Can’t Disqualify Them!

“Victor!” Yakov called out and looked around, but his pupil was gone. “Where is Victor?” He asked everyone he bumped into and debated if running down the hall was a good idea. He was getting too old for this.

Where was Victor?

He spotted Yuri in the hallway, talking to Otabek. He rushed up to them like a drowning man rushed to a life raft. “Have either of you seen Victor?” And then a thought occurred to him. _Oh God, please no!_ “Or the Japanese Yuuri?”

_Please say you’ve seen them, Yura!_ He tried to keep the desperation from his face, but it must’ve shown on it anyway because the two skaters exchanged surprised looks.

Yuri scoffed. “How did you manage to lose him, old man?”

Yakov sighed and rushed down the hallway. Trust Victor to be late for his own short program! And trust Yuri to be as difficult as ever. He had no time or breath to waste on teaching his pupil manners. _Maybe later. Maybe after I find Victor, if I can-_ no, he mustn’t think that.

_Where is he?_ he thought desperately. _Where can he possibly be at a time like this?_

Unless he’s not late. Yakov thought of the shooting at the ice rink and his blood ran cold. “Victor!” He called his name over and over again, but still got no response.

_Please be okay. Please let me find you._

He found the living legend sitting on a bench in one of the change rooms. Yuuri sat on the ground at his feet, his hands on Victor’s knees. Victor held his face, their mouths joined in a kiss.

Victor broke the kiss first. “It’s my turn soon,” he whispered, his mouth a few centimetres away from Yuuri’s.

Yuuri stared up at him and Yakov stepped away from the doorway, feeling like he was intruding on something private.

“I love you,” Yuuri said in a passionate tone Yakov had never heard from him before.

“I love you, too,” Victor responded, his voice trembling.

A short while later Victor walked out of the change room, his hand in Yuuri’s. They headed for the ice rink and too late Yakov remembered why he’d come this way.

 

Victor’s coach wasn’t on hand to give Victor his inspirational speech, or whatever it was that Yakov usually said to his pupil before he went out on the ice ( _probably something along the lines of “do not shame your country,”_ Yuuri thought) and so Yuuri found himself taking Yakov’s place.

It felt odd, to put it lightly.

He fiddled with the contents of his pocket as he wondered what he could possibly say at a time like this. Was he supposed to go find that idiot coach and drag him over here by force and make him do the talking?

“I don’t want to compete against you,” Victor suddenly admitted.

Yuuri raised his eyebrows. “A bit late for that, don’t you think?” _Not to mention annoying. I’ve been looking forward to this rematch for ages!_

“But to go out there and see you as my enemy!”

“Do you see everyone else as an enemy?”

Victor lowered his eyes. “Not really. Not everyone.”

And Yuuri thought he understood. _I guess you only see skaters who are as good as you as your enemy. I always knew you were a bit of a stuck up!_ “No one says we’re enemies.”

“I wish we competed in pair skating,” Victor whispered.

Yuuri pulled him in so that their foreheads touched and whispered, “You’re supposed to skate as me, remember? And I never back down from a fight.”

“I waited for you all of my life.”

“You’re a sentimental old man.” Yuuri released Victor’s head and stepped back carefully, remembering that he was still on skates. Falling now was the last thing he needed.

Victor smiled.

“Perhaps after I beat you we can take…” he pulled his fingers through his hair and tilted his head back with a smirk, “a commemorative photo?”

Victor’s eyes widened.

“You’re a terrible coach,” Yuuri added, feeling like he was getting into his stride now. “You’re no good. I’m going to go find someone else.”

“Stop it,” Victor whispered.

“And you’re…” Yuuri paused and smiled wickedly, “I’ll let your imagination complete this one.” _And you’re still not angry._

Victor stared with his mouth open. Then he turned around and skated to the middle of the ice rink.

Yuuri watched with his arms crossed. The smile on his face was gone.

 

Victor knew that Yuuri was trying to rile him up. But after going through what felt like a trial by fire he just couldn’t be angry no matter what Yuuri said.

_I’m weak. I don’t deserve you,_ he thought. _You’re doing everything you can to help me even though I might win and snatch the gold medal away from you._

He sighed and got into position.

_I will do what I always do: imagine I’m Yuuri Katsuki._ He remembered the cold Eros performance and did his best impersonation of the Yuuri Katsuki smirk.

The music started playing and his mind was full of Yuuri. Yuuri angry at the whole world, kicking down doors, shooting guns and swearing loudly and with feeling. Yuuri riding his motorcycle or striding down the hall with the kind of walk guaranteed to bring anyone down to their knees. Yuuri with his face red and passionate as he surrenders and swears or conquers and takes what he wants.

_This is who you are and I am yours._ And then he had a much more exciting thought, _And you are mine._

_No matter what happens now, no force in the universe will take me away. Nothing will persuade me to leave you._

He was dimly aware that he wasn’t skating as Yuuri anymore. He skated as himself: too deeply in love to function. Too far gone to think.

In less than a year Yuuri had become everything to him. Yuuri had become…

His head spun at the thought more than at the spin he was executing on the ice.

Yuuri had become his family.

He jumped the quadruple toe loop, landed and froze in the final position with his head raised proudly, very nearly defying the laws of physics in the act.

The audience’s screams were deafening.

He turned to look at Yuuri as sweat poured down his face.

Yuuri stepped out onto the ice and circled him. He was next. He was also second last.

Victor skated after him, joining him as they went around, forgetting himself and following automatically. Yuuri took his hands with a nod, gripping his fingers tightly.

“You’ll get in trouble for this,” he warned.

“But I’m your coach!”

“How could I forget?” Yuuri asked sarcastically. He pulled Victor close and then spun him around. “And now it’s my turn to get in trouble,” he muttered.

They went around several times.

 

“You might want to go,” Yuuri said, hoping Victor wouldn’t. “Before –”

As if he’d heard him, the commentator spoke up. “The judges are appalled by this behaviour and they’re starting to talk about disqualification.”

“And that’s my cue,” Yuuri said and stopped. “I’m not going to ask the question, because it’s an obvious one.” He slipped a hand into his pocket (which had been a last minute addition to his costume just for this) and pulled out a small object. He opened his hand and the object caught the light.

Victor put his hands over his mouth as he stared down at it in shock. _Did you really not think about it before?_

“Well, we already are effectively. What do you say?”

“Yes!” Victor exclaimed, holding out his right hand with tears in his eyes.

“It looks like Katsuki and Nikiforov are getting engaged right there on the ice! The judges, meanwhile, are considering which – _if any of them_ – to disqualify,” the commentator exclaimed. There was a hint in his voice as to what he thought was the right decision.

“Yuuri, what if…”

“I don’t care. Let them take all my medals, if they want to, and ban me from figure skating forever. It’s worth the look on your face.” Those were probably the sappiest words he’d ever said, but who the hell cared? He’d managed to take Victor away from the world in front of everyone’s eyes and there was nothing any of them could do about it. Let them watch. Let them all see.

Victor blushed.

“I have a second one.” He pulled out a second ring and presented it to Victor. “Take me.”

Victor took it, mesmerized. He looked from it to the one on his finger, as if unable to believe that they really did look the same. _Wait until you see what I had engraved on the inside._

Some detail must’ve caught Victor’s eye, because he raised it up to examine it closer. Now he was really starting to look like a human tomato. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t form a single word.

_Well, Snowflake, will you continue risking disqualification?_

He held out his right hand and Victor’s hands shook as he slipped the ring over Yuuri’s finger.

“Kiss me,” Yuuri said.

The audience screamed and applauded, like a crowd always does when given a good show, while the commentator wrestled (or at least it sounded like he wrestled) with the judges.

“What? They’re engaged!” There was a loud noise as if something big fell. “You can’t disqualify them! That’s not fair! How can you be so cruel?”

Yuuri gripped Victor harder with his hands.

“Look,” the commentator went on, apparently forgetting he was still speaking into a microphone, “someone messed with the music, so he couldn’t have performed anyway! Don’t look at me! Ask him!”

The air was full of murmurs. Someone demanded loudly, and next to a microphone, for the benefit of everyone in the audience, that someone was fired for this. The audience was demanding something too, but it was hard to untangle all of the little demands that made up the big cacophony of noise around them.

_Looks like my time is up._ Yuuri released Victor. “Wish me luck, coach.”

“Good luck,” Victor backed away reluctantly and headed for the kiss and cry.

Yuuri found the ideal spot to start from and watched Victor go. Yakov was back. He waited for his pupil with his arms crossed and an angry look on his face.

_Will you try to get in my way, old man?_ Yuuri wondered.

 

Engaged! Oh God, he was engaged!

Victor stared down at the ring on his finger in a daze as he skated towards the exit and his scores.

He stopped as he ran out of ice and hesitated. He turned to look at his pupil over his shoulder. Yuuri was in his initial pose for the Eros routine and it took every ounce of Victor’s self-control to not rush back across the ice towards him.

He pushed memories of their practice together out his mind and left the ice.

As soon as he saw Yakov at the kiss and cry Victor realized how much he’d forgotten about his coach.

But he was… _engaged_ now!

He looked down at the ring. Was it really there? It certainly felt real.

And Yuuri had proposed to him on the ice in front of everyone! It was the most romantic thing Victor had ever seen! And it was all for him!

Had Yuuri been on hand to listen in on Victor’s thoughts, he would’ve probably pointed out that he was reaching an unhealthy quantity of exclamation marks. But Yuuri was out there on the ice while Victor was here in the kiss and cry.

“Listen, Victor,” Yakov said quietly, “I want you to think about this. You shouldn’t rush into –”

“Yuuri proposed to me! Can you believe it?” He held out his hand to demonstrate the ring on his finger. “Look at it! Isn’t it the most beautiful thing in the world?”

“Um… yes, I suppose it is,” Yakov said in a pained tone of voice.

Victor raised his eyes from the most beautiful thing in the world and took in the frown on Yakov’s face. Something was wrong. But how could anything be wrong when he was so happy? Wasn’t the whole world happy with him? He certainly felt so happy he could distribute the feeling around with a shovel and still have enough to give everyone seconds.

And then he remembered about Yakov’s own marriage.

It hadn’t made sense to Victor at the time and it didn’t make any more sense now.

He raised his hand and admired the ring. When it caught the light it shone brighter than the sun, he was sure of it! He hesitated and then raised it to his lips. _I love you, Yuuri and I will never leave you. Never, ever. Because that’s what true love is._

He thought back to the day after Yakov officially got divorced.

 

_His coach showed up to practice, despite the fact that everyone thought he wouldn’t. He was quieter than normal and didn’t shout even once. He looked ready to cry. But for some reason he didn’t._

_He gave his instructions in a clear and calm tone of voice. He sounded defeated, as if he didn’t even have the energy to lose his temper._

_The students were all on their best behaviour that day._

_Victor wept for Yakov as soon as he got home. He sat on his couch, in his empty apartment and wept, burying his face in Makkachin’s fur. He thought of Yuuri Katsuki, the skater that would never notice him and wept harder._

_When Mila cornered him to talk about going to Japan and becoming Yuuri’s coach he was just a little bit more open to the idea than he’d been before. But even he didn’t know it then._

But now he was engaged!

He wanted to pull the ring off and look at the inscription on the inside of it (because if Yuuri’s had one than his had to have one too, it stood to reason), but Yuuri had put it on him and he didn’t dare ever take it off now. Not – oh God, what a thought! – until the wedding.

He’d seen the inscription on Yuuri’s ring and wondered if his was the same. He felt his finger tingle from the unfamiliar weight on it and fiddled with it.

Somehow Yuuri had even gotten the size perfect.

“And the scores for Victor Nikiforov are 117.75 points! He is currently in first place!”

The audience cheered loudly. Yakov was saying something, but Victor wasn’t listening to a word of it.

His eyes were on his fiancé out on the ice.

Yuuri nodded with a smile and raised his ring to his lips.

The ring that had a snowflake engraved on the inside of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of these days I will write an epic tale of how I wrote the explicit chapter (which I am still working on and will keep working on until I get it just right). As for the rings: I am not sorry.  
> Thank you so much to Nazita_chan! I’ve been listening to [ Amárrame by Mon Laferte](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l_ZyDlTfndE) on repeat for the last few days. It’s a great song!  
> And if you've ever wondered what Bad Apple would be like if they went to a high school (because who doesn't wonder that?), wonder no longer: [ I have the answer right here](http://witharthurkirkland.tumblr.com/post/165207390458/idk-how-you-feel-about-high-school-aus-but).


	48. Just Some Light Entertainment!

The Eros music started to play and for the first time in his life, after the hundreds of times he’d skated his program and listened to the music for it, Yuuri was suddenly struck by how sad it sounded. It was a stupid thought and he tried to shake it off, but there it was.

Partway into the routine he realized he was skating a different story this time. This wasn’t the Eros who made his appearance in the town to seduce the heart of the most beautiful person there only to cast them aside and this wasn’t the cold Eros who was always out of reach, this was a tragic Eros.

It was stupid and unlike him, but he couldn’t help it. Everything he’d thought about until now united in this one routine. Eros arrived, played the game of love and lost his heart and soul in the process. The ring on his finger caught the light.

_I’ve gotten weak and sentimental. I don’t know if I can still protect both of us, but so help me I’ll go down defending your life, Victor. You sure as hell don’t deserve an early death._

He caught his coach’s eye.

_If I don’t come out of this alive you’re not going to either, are you? Which means that we have to both make it._

He kept going, barely thinking about the jumps as he executed them one after the other. He’d been in hopeless situations before, cornered alone with no one to watch his back. He’d met them all head on.

_Hell, I won’t pretend it’s romantic, but if we go down, we’ll go down together._

The music was coming to an end, and his time was running out. And not just for the short program. Like in the Grand Prix Final he went into the quadruple flip, but, unlike in the Grand Prix, he landed perfectly. The audience applauded.

The music ended and Yuuri realized that was the last time he would skate that program. Eros’s story was well and truly over.

The audience cheered and screamed at the top of its voice. He responded with a sarcastic wave.

Something flew through the air. He tensed.

Then he realized it wasn’t the right shape to be something deadly. He watched it land on the ice in front of him and stared at it for several seconds.

A pair of underwear with something written on it in lipstick.

_Well that happened._ He turned away and skated to the kiss and cry where Victor sat with Yakov.

Victor was his coach, boyfriend and now even his fiancé and, yet, Yuuri only thought of him as his rival in that second.

_What will the judges decide, Snowflake? Do you think I finally beat you?_

He heard Victor tell his coach in no uncertain terms to get out before joining him in the kiss and cry.

“Yuuri! You were amazing!”

_He’s actually learned how to flip between coach Victor to boyfriend Victor. That’s impressive. In its own way._

“Well? Anything else?”

Victor stared at him in surprise. “I’m really proud of you! Was there anything else?”

“You’ve run out of words of praise? I’m crushed.” He laughed at the look on Victor’s face. “And –”

“And the scores for Yuuri Katsuki are…” They turned their heads just in time to see the display change, “…117.90! Yuuri Katsuki beat his coach, Victor Nikiforov!”

The crowd went wild, screaming something at the top of its collective voice and not all of it nice, as far as Yuuri could tell.

“Well,” he smirked at Victor, “now what?”

Victor took Yuuri’s right hand and kissed his ring.

The crowd, somehow, managed to get even louder.

Yuuri laughed. “No, no, you’re doing it all wrong. Come here.”

“I wish to kiss your gold medal,” Victor said. Then he rose to his feet, pulled Yuuri up and raised his hand over their heads as if he was the victor in a boxing match. “Yuuri Katsuki!” he shouted and was rewarded with a chant.

Some (maybe half, maybe more, maybe less) of the crowd chanted “Victor!” and the remaining part (presumably) chanted “Yuuri!”

Victor turned to smile at Yuuri. “Горько,” he whispered.

“You sentimental old man,” Yuuri said with a smirk and leaned in for a kiss, wondering if Victor knew that Yuuri had understood what the word meant.

He’d learned it entirely by accident, of course, and not at all because he was doing some research on the subject. Definitely. While it literally translated as bitter, it was the word guests shouted at weddings to get the newlyweds to kiss. He never found out why.

Something flashed. It was too loud to hear the bang, but Yuuri spotted the object speeding towards them and tackled Victor to the ground.

A single bullet whistled overhead.

And a wave of panic engulfed the ice rink. The cheering turned to squeals of terror in a matter of seconds.

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed.

Yuuri sat up. “Are you alright, Snowflake?”

“I’m fine. What about you?”

Yuuri shrugged. “I’m always fine.”

People ran and screamed all around them. Yuuri tensed and watched for threats. Yuri Plisetsky was suddenly next to them, swearing at everything, his face pale and twisted in fear.

There were more screams and Yuuri dropped down again, pulling the kid to the floor with him.

Two expert shots took the threat out, but they didn’t learn about that until much later.

Yuuri took in the terror all around them, jumped to his feet (nearly falling over, since he’d forgotten he was still in skates) and then found a microphone.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Just some light entertainment! Nothing to worry about!”

More screams marked the discovery of a bleeding corpse in the crowd. It didn’t take long to establish that as the corpse of the gunman who’d shot at Yuuri and Victor (it being hard to tell who exactly he’d been aiming for).

The police took charge in several minutes. Everyone was evacuated and Yuuri Katsuki found himself with his coach in front of a detective inspector trying to explain why someone would shoot at him.

 

Detective Inspector Patel wasn’t an idiot. The younger skater played the innocent victim, but something was off. He wasn’t completely convincing. It wasn’t just the punk clothes (that everyone insisted had been his skating outfit), or the overall air of a delinquent he had. It was the cold, dead eyes and the looks the man they’d assured him was his fiancé kept throwing at him. The fiancé was the actual innocent victim, if Patel was any judge.

“I don’t know, detective inspector,” Yuuri Katsuki said, his engagement ring flashing on his finger as he pulled his hand through his hair and reclined in his chair, “maybe it’s just a crazy fan. Usually they throw their underwear at me. This is the first time they threw bullets.”

_Very funny._

He watched the fiancé. _I gotta question him alone. The punk kid won’t break, but the blond one just might._

Yuuri took his fiancé’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “My boyfriend – I mean, fiancé,” the blond man blushed, “is a little nervous. He gets scared very easily.” They looked at each other and the detective inspector was prepared to swear they’d had a whole conversation with one glance.

“I want to question you on your own,” Patel said and watched the punk kid give him a hostile look.

“I just got engaged to Victor,” Yuuri said, “I skated my short program and then someone shot at us. My boy– fiancé is terrified, so, _naturally_ , I’d rather not leave him alone.” He put an arm around Victor and got a grateful look in response.

“ _You’re_ not terrified,” the detective inspector pointed out.

“Maybe because the man is now dead, or maybe I just have faith in your abilities to sort it out, _detective_ _inspector_.” The cheeky kid was being sarcastic at him now!

He leaned forward on the table and opened his mouth.

The door swung open and two police officers came in. “The ISU wants to know why you’re keeping the world’s top two skaters prisoner, detective inspector.”

_World’s top skaters? These kids?_ “I’m not keeping them prisoner,” Patel said. “I was just q- asking them if they know anything.”

“And what did they say?”

“Nothing.”

“Then you’re to let them go. They’re figure skaters. They were shot at. They have a competition to return to.”

“Alright,” Patel sighed. He waved his arm dismissively. “They may go.”

They left, both of them throwing a look at him as they walked out. Yuuri had an air of triumph. Victor gave him an apologetic look.

Patel watched the recording again. It just didn’t make any sense. Figure skater or not, there was no way someone had the reflexes to spot and avoid a bullet like Yuuri Katsuki did. Something wasn’t right about that skater and Patel was determined to find out what it was.

He watched Yuuri tackle his fiancé for the tenth time and noticed the way he cushioned Victor’s fall with his arms.

_He’s sincere about his feelings, at least, even if he_ is _lying through his teeth about everything else._

 

Victor was sitting on the bed in his bathrobe when Yuuri came out of the bath, a towel wrapped around his hips. He sat down next to Victor and took his hands.

“What will it be, fiancé?” Yuuri shifted closer. “You up for some pre-marital sex or are you going to make me wait until our wedding night?”

Judging by Victor’s face, he’d liked the sound of the words “wedding night”. _Really_ liked it. He leaned over Yuuri’s hand and kissed his ring.

“Will you really marry me?”

_No, I did that for a joke. Isn’t it obvious that I’m serious about this?_ “Of course I will, Snowflake. Will you really marry _me_?”

Victor pressed Yuuri’s hand to his face.

“You’re wrong,” Yuuri suddenly said. “You’re not my weakness. You’re my strength. I never used to care if I lived or died. I used to just run wild and do whatever. I was so sure I’d die in a year or so, but then you came along and now I want to hold on to life. I want to protect you. I want to make you happy.”

Victor raised his head and their eyes met. “You’ve made me very happy. I’m the happiest person alive.”

“If you’re sure, Snowflake.” Yuuri stood up. “Alright, I’ve said all the sappy nonsense I had in mind.” He untied the towel, tossed it aside and put his hands on his hips with a smirk. “Are you ready for the best sex of your life?”

Victor’s eyes flickered briefly downwards.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” _Don’t think I didn’t see where your eyes just went._ He took Victor’s hand and raised it to his face. “How long have you chased me for, Snowflake?”

“Th-three years,” Victor answered hoarsely. Yuuri put Victor’s fingers in his mouth.

Yuuri sat down on Victor’s knees, putting Victor’s hands aside. He took Victor’s face and kissed him. Victor closed his eyes as Yuuri’s hands made their way into his hair. Yuuri broke the kiss and pulled Victor’s head back as his lips trailed down over his neck.

“Yuuri...” Victor moaned. “Oh, Yuuri…”

Yuuri’s hands slipped down under Victor’s bathrobe and over his chest. “What’s the weather in Country Victor?”

“Wh-what?” Victor stammered.

Yuuri pulled his hands out and fiddled with the tie around Victor’s bathrobe. “Are you cold, Snowflake?”

“N-no.” Victor reclined on the bed, untying his bathrobe and opening it.

Yuuri leaned over him, his hands back at it: sliding over Victor’s chest and down. “Here is the five-time world champion at my mercy. What should I do first?”

Victor covered his face with his hands.

“I love you,” Yuuri whispered and kissed his chest. “Seriously now, Victor. No joking this time, no sarcasm. A simple confession, as promised.”

Victor pulled his hands away and Yuuri saw tears glistening on his cheeks.

“Pathetic, isn’t it?” Yuuri said. _What the hell is he crying about now? I haven’t hurt him, have I? Hell, I’ve barely done anything!_ He shifted away. “I know it must be a big disappointment,” he went on in the same tone, “Yuuri Katsuki, saying something without being sarcastic. The end is nigh, run and hide, and all that apocalyptic nonsense.”

Victor caught Yuuri by the arms and pulled him down. “I’m crying because I’m happy,” he said.

“That’s confusing. You cry because you’re sad and you cry because you’re happy. Do you cry when you’re scared too?” Yuuri shifted forward into a more comfortable position. “And if I’m good enough, will you cry then?” He chuckled. “Or just cry _out_?”

“Which do you prefer?” Victor asked.

_God, Snowflake, why do I have this mental image of you bringing something on a plate? Would you bring yourself on a plate, if I asked?_

“I prefer it when you’re moaning,” Yuuri said, his hands back on Victor’s chest. “Or when you get carried away and you grab me with your hands. Well, I say “grab me”, but you know it’s more than just grabbing.”  He leaned forward and whispered, “Front or back, you can grab any part of me you like.”

Victor’s stammering reached a record level of stuck with no chance of moving anywhere.

“And don’t feel like you should only use your hands,” Yuuri went on, rubbing his nose against Victor’s neck.

This comment left Victor with his mouth open, unable to even stutter something. _The Victor stutter-out-something-from-embarrassment program has encountered an error and needs to close. We apologize for the inconvenience._

“I’m glad to see that you understand me so perfectly,” Yuuri said. He sat up and pulled a hand through his hair. “Have I become too predictable?”

“Yes,” a third voice cut in.


	49. I’ll Get you a Big Wedding Present

Yuuri grabbed Victor and pulled him off the bed. He raised his head above it while his hand hunted around for a gun. Unbeknownst to Victor, Yuuri kept at least one gun under the bed in their hotel rooms.

The intruder laughed. “If I’d wanted to kill you, I could’ve done that at any point in the last ten minutes.”

“Bastard!” Yuuri exclaimed.

“Phichit!” Victor said almost at the same time and made to get up, but Yuuri held him down.

The Thai skater and most dangerous blackmailer on Earth stood by the door, his hands in his pockets and an innocent smile on his face.

“What do you want?” Yuuri demanded.

“You’re getting slow and soft, Yuuri. You’ve become weak.”

“Good news for you, isn’t it?” Yuuri countered.

“Really,” Phichit sighed. “Put some clothes on. Let’s talk business, Yuuri.”

Yuuri stood up and pointed a gun at Phichit, having finally found the one he’d stashed under the bed. “Why the hell would I want to talk business with you?”

“Because you’ve got no options. Because you can’t bluff with no cards, Yuuri, and because you’ve become what I already said. Should I describe you again?”

Anger made way for uncertainty on Yuuri’s face. He stared at Victor, who sat on the floor with a slightly bewildered look on his face. Anger elbowed its way back as Yuuri turned away.

“Ten minutes of your time,” Phichit offered, “and then you can do whatever you want for the rest of the night.”

Yuuri pulled the blanket off the bed and tossed it over Victor. “I’ll be quick,” he promised and got dressed.

In the good traditions of all hotels everywhere their room had one chair, despite the fact that the room was meant for two people. Phichit dropped into it and Yuuri sat on the bed across from him.

“Next time,” Yuuri said, before Phichit could start, “I recommend you pick a better time. I don’t care what you have on me, I’ll shoot your head off, if you interrupt us again.”

Phichit laughed as if Yuuri had told him a clever joke. “Of course, of course. But you have to understand that today’s incident may give me a good opportunity that I can’t pass up. I heard rumours that they might postpone the rest of the World’s and we’re only a few hours away from Detroit.”

“So what? You want to go catch up with old friends? What does that have to do with me?”

“Oh, Yuuri,” Phichit laughed, “why would I trouble you for something so trivial? I have an old score to settle and, conveniently, I have stone-cold killer Yuuri by my side when I’m so close.” He saw stone-cold killer Yuuri open his mouth for some well-chosen curse words and went on. “Do this for me and I’ll help you deal with your problem.”

“I don’t need your help.” Yuuri folded his arms over his chest. “I have a name and as soon as I win my gold I will deal with them.”

“Without backup?”

Yuuri shrugged. “It takes a lot to kill Yuuri Katsuki, but if it comes to that… well, we all have to die someday.”

“As if I will believe that!” Phichit laughed. “Killer Yuuri, maybe, and maybe even skater Yuuri doesn’t care about dying, but…” he paused and smiled at the frustration on Yuuri’s face, “…not _fiancé_ Yuuri, engaged to the living legend, who, by the way, is still lying naked on the floor.”

“Shut. Up.” Yuuri forced down every thought he had at the sound of the words “naked on the floor”. Then he spoke to Victor, keeping his eyes on Phichit, “You can move to the bed, by the way. You don’t need to stay on the floor.”

“O-okay,” Victor stammered out.

There was the sound of him getting up and Yuuri resisted the urge to turn and look at him. God, he really _hated_ Phichit for interrupting. He was trying to calm down. His whole body had gone into make-love-to-Victor mode. It wasn’t one that was easy to get out of, if they didn’t go all the way. He really needed Victor _right now_. It didn’t matter who was between whose thighs, that was just detail that could be sorted out later.

“Please, Yuuri, I’m not asking for anything unreasonable,” Phichit went on, obviously misunderstanding the expression on Yuuri’s face. “You help me and I will help you. And you can even take the living legend with you. We’ll need someone to act as bait.”

Yuuri grabbed Phichit and threw him to the floor, dropping down on top of him, one hand around the man’s neck. “He’s my fiancé, not an object you can gamble.” His eyes flashed. “Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay…” Phichit choked out. “I was just… just making a joke.”

“Hmph!” Yuuri got up and watched Phichit rise to his feet. He dropped back onto the bed with his arms crossed.

“Look,” Phichit went on in that annoying cheerful tone of his, “I know you both enjoy this kind of thing, so I don’t understand why I have to convince you. Did you want me to pay you? Is that what it takes to get fiancé Yuuri to do something these days?”

Victor shifted on the bed and embraced Yuuri from behind. “I don’t mind,” he whispered into Yuuri’s ear and buried his face in his fiancé’s shoulder.

_Not right now, Snowflake._

“Excellent, so it’s settled, then!” Phichit said, getting up.

“We didn’t agree on the terms,” Yuuri cut in.

“I’ll get you a big wedding present. How about that?” Phichit asked.

Yuuri could actually feel the blush on Victor’s cheeks burning against his skin. “Gosh…” Victor whispered. It really was taking a long time to sink in. For both of them.

“Sure. All of the wedding expenses are on you,” he said. “Talk to Victor. Figure out what he wants and pay for all of it. If you screw this up, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”

“It’s a deal,” Phichit said with a grin and Yuuri wondered how Phichit will ruin his wedding. _If we live long enough to get married,_ Yuuri’s brain supplied.

Victor’s hands were gripping his shoulders and he could feel the ring pressing against his skin.

It had taken some coordination to order those rings and have them engraved, all without Victor finding out and while not leaving Victor’s side.

_If I ever retire from killing people and figure skating, I can write advice for sappy idiots who want to make ridiculous proposals. Won’t that be something? I think I’ll call it: Love Advice from a Murderer. It will sell like anything._

Then he realized that Phichit was still in their room for some reason. “You got what you wanted now get out of my sight.”

Phichit laughed and got up. It took him far more time than was necessary to get to the door and in the end Yuuri decided to help him on his way out with his hand, and, if Phichit wavered on the doorway any longer, with his foot.

Yuuri locked the door and darted across the room to crawl onto the bed. He grabbed Victor’s head, giving him a kiss that was meant to explain what he knew he couldn’t put into words: how much he needed the other skater at the moment. Victor responded, barely able to keep up.

“One of these days, I will…” Yuuri muttered, pulling away and grabbing Victor’s lips with his own again, “…kill someone for barging in.”

 

Yuuri was on top of him, getting carried away again and Victor was so overwhelmed he didn’t remember until it was almost too late to put his arms around Yuuri.

His fiancé pulled away and started telling him something, but it was a good minute before Victor’s brain started to translate the sounds he heard into words with meaning.

“…so I guess you could say that I asked your aunt for your hand in marriage. And she wanted to be there in the audience,” Yuuri told him as he slid his fingers up into Victor’s hair.

Victor blushed. “R-Really? When did you talk to her about this?”

Yuuri smiled, raising an eyebrow. “That time we visited her with the kid, she and I had a chat.” He leaned forward and rubbed his nose affectionately against Victor’s neck. “She didn’t believe me when I said I wanted to marry you and told me she wanted to be there when I proposed.” Yuuri’s tongue was touching the skin of Victor’s neck now. “But, with her health, I couldn’t drag her across the ocean, so she got to watch it on TV like everyone else.”

Victor gasped. “Yuuri…”

“You know, I just remembered that I need to tell her how wrong she was…” Yuuri said and broke out into enthusiastic kissing of Victor’s neck, making full use of his lips, “…later.”

Victor tried to focus on breathing. Yuuri’s hands travelled down over his body and he found that he was no longer thinking about what Yuuri was doing with his mouth.

Yuuri chuckled, resting his forehead against Victor’s neck. “It’s always so much fun to watch your reactions,” he said, running his hand over Victor and getting a moan in response. “What would you like?” he whispered into Victor’s ear.

“Yuuri…” Victor gasped out, unable to think.

“Well, if you’re sure.”

He was still dressed and not in just any old clothes. He was all dressed in leather, running his hands over Victor in his leather gloves before licking his lips with a mischievous grin on his face and lowering his head slowly.

Victor watched, his mouth slightly open. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from his fiancé’s face and Yuuri positioned himself in a way to not break eye contact. He gripped Victor’s hips with both hands, his thumbs stroking Victor’s skin.

“Y-Yuuri!” Victor croaked.

He was taking his time, a big smile on his face, enjoying himself so much, someone else would’ve probably called it illegal.

Victor wished he could look away. All his blood rushed to his face and breathing was getting harder with every second.

He tried to think of something else, but found that he couldn’t think of anything at all. He could only focus on the feel of Yuuri’s tongue and lips. Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki. The same Yuuri who had proposed to him in front of everyone. Yuuri Katsuki, the god Eros himself.

_Oh God! Oh God!_

Yuuri pulled away slowly, reached down for one last lick and then ran his tongue over his lips. “I love the taste of a five-time champion in the middle of the night.”

Victor clutched at his heart. “W-we won’t be interrupted this time, will we?” he whispered.

He’d realized as he watched Phichit and Yuuri talk just how annoyed he was when they were interrupted. Embarrassed he might have been under force of Yuuri’s personality, but that didn’t mean he wanted Yuuri to stop, or for someone to stop Yuuri. It was all part of the way they flirted with each other: Yuuri said or did something that made Victor blush and totter on the verge of fainting and Victor tried his hardest to stay conscious. Victor was used to it now. In fact, he’d learned to enjoy it.

Yuuri’s eyes flashed. He sat up angrily, unzipped his coat and tossed it aside. The shirt came off next and then ran his hands over his hair, flattening it down.

“I told them not to barge in on us,” he growled. “What part of “leave me the hell alone” didn’t they get?” Yuuri paused, looked at Victor and raised an eyebrow. “You look ready to faint. You _can_ breathe, you know. Shockingly enough, you _are_ actually allowed to do that,” He leaned forward, “and as loudly as you want, too.”

Victor covered his face with his hands. But he didn’t keep his eyes covered for long: he peered out from between his fingers to watch Yuuri continue undressing.

Yuuri was so angry it was making Victor’s head spin. He often wondered why he’d found Yuuri’s anger so attractive and had yet to come up with an answer that made sense.

Yuuri sat on his knees, unzipping his pants. He had to get up to pull them down and then he had them down to his knees, and…

Yuuri laughed as he dropped onto his backside to remove his pants. “I should’ve asked you to pull them off me, don’t you think?”

Victor didn’t hear the rest. First Yuuri was completely naked, then he was crawling across the bed on his elbows and knees with a predatory smirk on his face. His body shook.

“Take me…” Victor whispered and dropped onto the pillow, too weak to sit up any longer.

And then when Yuuri was sitting on top of him Victor remembered about something important. He tried to sit up. Yuuri had to help him into an upright position.

“Yuuri…” he began, “can you… can you take my ring off?”

Victor had never seen Yuuri look as offended as he had then. “Something wrong with it?” he asked quietly. “Did you want a diamond ring?”

“N-no! Not at all! I just…” he hunted around for the right words, “I wanted to see what’s engraved on the inside, because I saw your ring and… I wanted to know what’s on mine, but I didn’t want to take it off, because you put it on me and…”

Yuuri’s face spread in a pleased smirk. “You’ll like this,” he whispered. Very carefully, he pulled the ring off and then put it into Victor’s hand.

He raised it to the light. There was no picture on the inside of his ring, just one word.

_Eros._

Their eyes met.

“I love you,” Victor whispered yet again, “and I will go on loving you, no matter what happens. There will only ever be you. I will never betray you, even if,” he hesitated and forced himself to go on, “even if you leave me.” _Although, I’m pretty sure I will die if you leave me._

Yuuri held Victor’s hand with one hand while the other slipped the ring back in its place. “That sounded like a wedding vow. Look at us, getting married in secret. If that’s not the sappiest thing in existence, I don’t know what is.” He smiled as his hand stopped partway down Victor’s finger. “Will you elope with me, Victor?”

“Of course!”

Yuuri chuckled. “Hasn’t anyone told you that I’m a bad influence and no good for you?”

Victor couldn’t help the smile that appeared on his face and Yuuri grinned in response.

He slipped the ring on all the way and whispered, “You can kiss the groom.”

Victor took Yuuri’s head and kissed him. He dropped back onto the pillow, feeling Yuuri run his hands over him.

“I think,” Yuuri said, pulling away, “that we need some practice for the wedding night. What do you say to that, Snowflake?”

Victor couldn’t help the giggle that escaped his lips. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I fallen off the line between Mature and Explicit yet?  
> I should call this the fic that didn't so much fall into the Explicit rating as saunter vaguely downwards (bonus points to anyone who knows what I'm quoting).


	50. My Bad Ass-in-Training

_Of course_ after two of the top figure skaters were shot at and the shooter was found dead everyone decided to move on and the case was closed. After all, World’s was more important than finding out who and why someone was trying to kill two figure skaters who never did anything wrong.

Or not.

World’s was postponed by a week in the naïve hope that in that week the police would sort everything out, solve the mystery, arrest the criminals, bring about world peace and make the world a better place.

The skaters greeted this news like anyone who’d just packed for vacation greets the news that vacations are no longer allowed and the local big holiday has been cancelled for the next ten years.

“What about me?” Yuri Plisetsky demanded, jumping up angrily to be taller than everyone in the crowd as soon as the announcement was made. “I didn’t get a chance to skate my short program!”

The very important-looking representative of the ISU turned to look at him, as did most of the crowd. “You will skate it a week from now. We apologize for this, Mr. Plisetsky, but our hands are tied.”

The skaters grumbled about this and left to gather in little groups just outside and grumble some more about this to each other.

“What’s the point of stopping everything?”

“What does a week give them?”

“Why can’t we just compete? I have to change all my tickets now!”

And so on.

“Told you so,” Phichit said to Yuuri. He was probably the only person not complaining.

Yuuri looked at Victor. “Well, Snowflake? Any bright ideas?”

“What do you mean?”

Yuuri put an arm on his shoulder. “Alright, I’ll ask my coach. What’s my training schedule for the day, coach?”

“I think it’s safe to say that practice –” Phichit began, but Yuuri held up a hand.

He raised an eyebrow meaningfully at Victor.

“I want to go on a date,” Victor said, blushing a little.

“You got it, Snowflake,” Yuuri said. “One date coming right up and would you like to add sex to your order?”

Victor turned bright red. “Y-Yuuri!”

“Ah, the picky sort, aren’t you? I’ll try my best to please you, in the hopes that you’ll ask for more.” He stepped back and gave a mock bow. “Any other orders?”

Phichit laughed. “That’s our Yuuri for you.”

“Y-yes,” Victor stammered out.

“So, about Detroit –” Phichit began.

“Have you met my fiancé?” Yuuri cut in. “I forgot to introduce you, Phichit. Meet Victor Nikiforov, the living legend of the Katsuki-Nikiforov bedroom.” He pretended not to notice the blush on Victor’s face as he asked, “Katsuki-Nikiforov or Nikiforov-Katsuki? What do you think?”

“I… I don’t know…”

“Oh well. There’s still time to think about it.”

“Yuuri!” Phichit protested.

“Tomorrow,” Yuuri waved him off. He put an arm around Victor. “I have a pair of pants to work my way into.”

Victor covered his face.

 

They started off with a motorcycle ride and then went for a walk down a street full of shops. Victor couldn’t pass a single store without going inside. After the tenth store Yuuri was starting to wonder if it was worth asking Victor what he was looking for directly.

“Yuuri, give me your hand,” he said once they made it to what was probably the twentieth store.

“I thought I already have.”

Victor blushed. “P-please,” he stammered out, throwing a quick look at Yuuri’s face and then lowering his eyes, “h-hold out your hand.”

Yuuri held it out. Victor slipped a watch hesitantly over it and then took his hands away to let Yuuri admire it on his arm.

“I-I don’t know about this one,” Victor stammered out. “I thought… I want to get you something, but,” he sighed and turned back to look the other items in the display case, “frankly nothing I give you will measure up to the engagement ring.”

Yuuri slid a hand up Victor’s back and leaned in to whisper into his ear, “I think the five-time world champion will do quite nicely in exchange.”

Victor blushed. “Try this one,” he said, picking up another watch and switching it with the previous one.

“Will you buy me something dirty, if I ask for it?” Now Yuuri’s hand was travelling down and making a grab for Victor.

The blush on Victor’s face was going to singe his hair. “I-if you really want… I mean, if you… I can…”

Yuuri laughed, raised his hand and pinched his cheek. “ _There’s_ something I got to see!”

“M-maybe I should get you a jacket instead,” Victor said, noticing a rack of leather jackets with studs and heading for it, feeling ready to fall over. He had to grab a hold of things he passed to steady himself.

Yuuri caught up with him and grabbed him by the arm. “Easy, tiger.”

They stood next to the jackets, looking into each other’s eyes. _God, if this isn’t the sappiest thing I’ve ever done, I don’t know what is!_

Victor smiled and leaned down to kiss Yuuri on the cheek. Yuuri’s hand was feeling him up again, but Victor didn’t seem to notice. Yuuri turned slowly to catch Victor’s lips, enjoying the feel of them sliding over his face. Victor leaned in closer.

Yuuri’s phone rang.

Victor tried to pull away, but Yuuri held him in place.

 _Let them wait,_ he thought. _Let them curse me. I don’t care who that is. I’m not interested in anything they have to say._

Finally he released Victor and answered his phone. “If you don’t know where the nearest –” he said to the caller.

“Two blocks west of you,” Phichit cut in.

“Hear that, Snowflake? What will you buy me?”

Victor turned away to hide his face.

“I hear different flavours are a popular thing these days,” Phichit went on.

“I expect so. Vanilla gets boring fast.”

“Vanilla?” Victor turned around.

“Vanilla?” Phichit asked almost at the same time.

“As in: vanilla ice cream,” Yuuri said with a smirk. “What did you think I was talking about?” He ignored Phichit’s answer and chuckled at Victor’s reaction.

“B-but earlier… you said…” It was so fun to watch him splutter words with a blush on his face. _That’s some really funny back-pedaling!_

“Anyway, what do you want?” Yuuri asked Phichit. “From me, I mean. I honestly couldn’t care less what you want in general.” He smiled at Victor as Phichit laughed.

“Mila called.”

Yuuri tensed and the smile drained from his face. Victor also looked alarmed.

Phichit held a dramatic pause. “She invited us to go sing karaoke.”

“Karaoke?” Yuuri repeated in disbelief.

Victor actually jumped up in excitement. “Ooh! Can we go?”

Yuuri sighed. “Only if I don’t have to sing.”

“Aww!”

Phichit gave them an address and hung up.

 _Oh well,_ Yuuri thought, _maybe it will be entertaining._

 

Entertaining was one word for it, but “ridiculous” was another one and one that suited it better at that, in Yuuri’s opinion.

All of the usual suspects gathered together from Mila to the kid and even Guang Hong and Leo had joined them.

Yuuri watched the two gunmen sing a duet as Victor wrapped his hands around him. He was in the leather jacket Victor had bought for him. He knew who had shot their would-be killer. He didn’t need the rank of detective inspector to figure that out.

“Yuuri…” Victor whispered into his ear.

“Hmm?”

“Sing for me.” He rubbed his nose against Yuuri’s cheek.

“I thought we’d agreed that I wasn’t going to sing.”

Guang Hong and Leo finished and Victor got up to go through the list of songs. “This one!” he said after several concentrated minutes and selected it.

“I’m not singing _that_!” Yuuri protested as the song began.

There were cries of “Aww!” and “Come on, Yuuri!”

“Well, I’m not,” Yuuri insisted. “I’ve got better things to do than –”

“ _I’m bad to the bone_ ,” Victor sang out, a big smile on his face. “ _B-b-bad, b-b-b-bad,_ ” he stuttered over the “b” as dramatically as he could, trying to sing in a gruff voice and failing.

“Oh, _come on_ , Victor!” Yuuri protested. “ _Really_?”

For the first time in his life he was covering his face with his hand in something approaching embarrassment.

Victor got more and more carried away as the song went on, singing to Yuuri as if he was serenading him.

“ _I want to be yours, pretty baby, yours and yours alone._ ”

Yuuri reached out and grabbed him, but Victor wouldn’t stop until he got to the end. And then he gave Yuuri a big grin. If he’d managed to look “bad to the bone” before that (which he didn’t), the grin would’ve broken the impression entirely.

“Well? Are you done now?” Yuuri asked.

“What did you think?”

“I’m not convinced that you’re bad to the bone,” Yuuri told him. _And, let’s be honest, you’re not that great at singing either._

Victor laughed and sang out, “ _I’m b-b-b-bad_.” He really liked that line, far more than it deserved. “Will you sing now, Yuuri? Or do you want me to sing something else for you?”

Yuuri sighed. “Only if they have something I want to sing.”

 

Victor watched Yuuri go through the list, silently praying it would have something that would suit Yuuri’s taste. It was much more fun to sing than he’d expected. Maybe he could convince Yuuri to sing a duet with him!

Finally Yuuri settled for something. He dropped down near the screen, beckoned Victor over and sat him down on his knee. Victor tried to fight down the blush that rose to his cheeks.

Yuuri put one arm around him and sang. Victor felt his heart melt at the sound of his voice. He didn’t catch a single word until Yuuri got to the refrain. And then he could make out every word very clearly. “ _I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I know this much is true: I want to do bad things with you._ ”

There was that dangerous smirk on his face again and the glint in his eyes.

 _I love you so much right now_ , Victor thought, feeling Yuuri’s hands slide over him.

His face was red and his ears were probably red too, but that didn’t matter. He forgot completely about the fact that they weren’t alone. He merely sat and listened to Yuuri sing, feeling bewitched by the sound of his voice and the look in his eyes.

And much later when they were on their way back, feeling drunk and elated, he laughed when Yuuri caught him against the wall in the elevator.

“Are you still not convinced that I’m bad to the bone?” he asked.

Yuuri kissed him. “You’re not. You’re just… a Snowflake. _My_ innocent Snowflake.”

“But I could be bad, if I wanted to!” he protested, pulling away.

“Hmmm,” Yuuri seemed to be more interested in kissing than arguing and Victor gave in.

He’d gotten his duet. He couldn’t remember what they’d sung anymore, only that Yuuri was much better at it than he was and that he didn’t care.

Mila had snuck out and bought alcohol, but they walked out as soon as she returned with it. Yuuri was getting impatient and Victor could see it all too well.

He’d also avoided Mila as much as he could and Victor couldn’t blame him.

 

They’d flirted in the elevator, alternating between kissing and saying sappy nonsense. There was probably no part of Victor above the torso that Yuuri hadn’t touched in the oh-so-brief elevator ride. Anyone else would’ve thought they were drunk, but they were both completely sober. In strict blood alcohol terms, anyway.  Yuuri got so worked up that by the time they got to the bedroom he stripped and dropped onto his back on the bed without stopping for anything. Victor sat down next to him and slid his hands over the bed as he leaned down for a kiss. Yuuri reached out and pulled his fingers through Victor’s hair.

“Take your clothes off,” he said, breaking the kiss.

Victor sat up, blushing. He looked like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t pluck up the courage to form the words. Or he just couldn’t figure out how to say it.

“Can we have sex first?” Yuuri asked, unzipping Victor’s pants. “And then we can talk about anything for as long as you like.”

Victor undressed frantically, as if he was rushing somewhere.

 _I know I’m always rushing_ there, Yuuri thought.

But, much to Yuuri’s frustration, as soon as Victor pulled his underwear off he sat down with the air of someone who wasn’t going to go anywhere. “You know,” he said, continuing the conversation from before, “I can be bad ass too.”

_Do we really have to talk about this now?_

Victor climbed off the bed. “Look, all I need is a leather jacket,” he pulled Yuuri’s on, “and the right hairstyle.” He dragged his hands over his hair, pulling it back in a silly imitation of Yuuri’s slicked back hairstyle.

Yuuri, whose hair was definitely _not_ slicked back at the moment (not after Victor had run his hands through it), sat up and stared at the living legend standing before him, wearing nothing but a leather jacket, twitching his lips in what was probably supposed to be a smirk, but really wasn’t. He burst out laughing. “What’s that supposed to be?”

Victor kept a straight face as he stuck out his chin. “Don’t laugh, or I’ll shoot your head off!”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow.

“And if you make faces at me, I’ll shoot your face off!” Victor declared.

“Well, the entertainment tonight is bizarre, but at least the view is good.”

Victor blushed, but stayed where he was. “You’re laughing now,” he said, trying to sound like Yuuri, “but what the... hell will you do when you’re surrounded by a bunch of... bastards with guns!”

It might have been less funny if Victor didn’t hesitate before saying “hell” and “bastard”. Maybe. Then again, probably not.

Yuuri laughed, propped up against the pillow so he could see Victor from head to toe. “I’ll wait for you to come and save me, of course!”

He was really getting carried away now. Victor circled the bed and leaned over Yuuri. “Don’t worry, babe, I’ll save you.”

“And then you’ll give me a ride, right?” Yuuri said, slipping into an impersonation of Victor. “I love it when you give me a ride on your big...” he paused, pretended to be embarrassed and watched Victor really get embarrassed, “...bike,” he finished with a smirk.

Victor dropped onto the bed and covered his face. “Yuuri, I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Yuuri asked, wrapping his arms around Victor.

“You must be really mad at me.”

“I’m not,” Yuuri said, slipping his hands under the jacket and setting them loose on Victor.

“I... I didn’t mean to make fun of you.”

Yuuri buried his face in Victor’s hair and kissed the back of his head. His lips traveled down to Victor’s neck, but Victor wasn’t responding. He went around the living legend’s jaw and then up to his right ear and whispered:

“Will you give me a ride, Snowflake?”

Victor gave a sad sigh. “Will you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Yuuri said, “except for making me wait.” He shifted forward, pressing his whole body against Victor’s. “If you’re feeling lazy, I can –”

Victor turned and caught Yuuri’s lips with his own. Yuuri dropped onto the bed, taking Victor with him. “Keep the leather jacket on,” he said, “my bad ass-in-training.”

 

The highway stretched out ahead of him, too full of cars for him to properly chase the horizon, so he settled for weaving between them instead. Yuuri glanced at the mirror. The closer he got to the border, the more convinced he became that the very average-looking black car behind him was tailing him.

He wasn’t the paranoid type. If someone wanted to give chase, it was fine by him. It would make the trip to Detroit that much more interesting.

Time to check if he was right or developing paranoia after all.

He turned off at the next exit, making for the resting area. But instead of the station, he pulled into a parking lot where he parked the bike.

Yuuri took off his helmet and climbed off the bike.

“Is something wrong?” Victor asked, taking his helmet off as well.

Yuuri smiled and caught Victor in a kiss.

As they got more enthusiastic, he threw a look behind Victor and his grip around his fiancé tightened.

Detective Inspector Patel pulled into the parking lot and climbed out of the average-looking car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 50 chapters, holy crap! And only 10 more to go… Sorry if the updates have been slower than before. Also, a part of this chapter happened as result of a prompt someone sent me. Just like [G-rated Bad Apple](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12156789) (it was also a bit of an inside joke, I confess). I actually now have a [tag for these prompts](http://witharthurkirkland.tumblr.com/tagged/bad%20apple%20prompts), if you’re curious. Also I’m debating how many of these I want to post here. I don't want to have a fic of just drabbles, but I think that a couple of them work as standalone one shots and then there's the High School AU one that I have yet to post... What do you think?


	51. Killer Yuuri got Engaged?

It had to happen, didn’t it? There you were with the love of your life, enjoying yourself, not killing anyone (just thinking about killing several people) when someone had to come and ruin your fun.

Yuuri tensed as the Detective Inspector got closer and Victor pulled away to turn around and see what was wrong.

“Hello, Detective Inspector,” Yuuri said, “fancy meeting _you_ here.”

“And a good day to you, gentlemen. Driver’s licence, please, Mr. Katsuki.”

“Sure.” Yuuri handed his over. “Is there a problem? Is it against the law to make out in the parking lot?”

“Yuuri!” Victor hissed.

“Nope. Everything is fine. Can I ask where you’re headed?”

“Sure.” Yuuri shrugged. “Detroit. I used to train there and since we’re this close, I figured I’d drop by and pay them a visit.”

Not finding anything else to complain about (or even say), the Detective Inspector handed over Yuuri’s driver’s licence and was off.

They watched him drive away in glum silence.

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed as soon as the man had gone. “For a moment there, I thought you were going to shoot him!”

“Why would I waste bullets on that idiot when we can just lose him after we cross the border? Come on. I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Crossing the border had been uneventful: Yuuri answered all of the questions thrown at him in the calmest tone imaginable, impersonating a lawyer he’d met once.

He was quiet until they got to Detroit where he pulled over at the first gas station and removed his helmet for a conversation.

“You think you can keep yourself under control while we’re here, Snowflake?” he asked without any kind of preamble and waited for the confusion that was bound to follow.

Victor gave him a puzzled look.

“I’m not saying “don’t go shooting people’s heads off”. I know I don’t need to tell _you_ that.” He paused. “In fact, if you knew how to shoot a gun, I’d recommend doing it as much as possible here. No, that’s no it. I’ll be blunt: we’re going to stay with an old friend of mine, who I don’t trust. She’ll try to catch me off guard and I don’t want to be caught,” he laughed, “with my pants down.”

Victor blushed and nodded to show he understood.

“I know, I know, as a fiancé I’m a big disappointment,” Yuuri went on. “But you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me, right Snowflake?”

“Th-there’s nothing to forgive,” Victor said and embraced Yuuri. “I love you,” he whispered into Yuuri’s ear.

Yuuri ran a hand down Victor’s back. “Doesn’t mean I can’t touch you, though.”

“Y-Yuuri!” Victor jumped, as if electrified.

 

Twenty minutes later they were on the first floor of an old apartment building, knocking on a door, not a door at random, but one that Yuuri knew was the right one, but which, coincidentally, also happened to be the first one they saw.

“Go away!” an old lady called out. “I don’t want any more of your damn pamphlets!”

Yuuri laughed. “How about your damn friends?”

The door swung open and the owner of the voice peered out. “What the hell do you want?”

Yuuri shrugged. “A gold medal at World’s.”

“Very funny.” The old lady sniffed and gave Victor a suspicious look. “And who might you be?”

Yuuri put an arm around Victor. “Let’s do the introductions inside.”

“Fine.” She sniffed again. If Yuuri hadn’t met her before he would’ve asked if she had a cold.

They entered an old apartment cluttered with all the stuff in the world. None of the walls were visible because of all the things stacked against them. There was a strong musty smell that made both of the skaters break out into coughing fits.

“Cough it out,” the lady said with a laugh. “Now, who is this and what do you two want?” She swung around and suddenly she had two guns pointing at both of them.

“Ah, the traditional Detroit hello!” Yuuri laughed.

“You’ll get the Detroit goodbye, if you don’t start talking!” she threatened.

“This is my boyfriend. Victor, meet Aunt May and vice versa.” Yuuri put an arm around Victor and Aunt May stared pointedly at his ring. “You got _married_? How the hell,” she spat into a corner, startling Victor, “did _you_ get married?” She leaned forward and gave Victor a long look through narrowed eyes.

“Engaged,” Yuuri corrected, pushing her away.

“What? Killer Yuuri got _engaged_?”

“Yes.” _You’re getting old: you’re slower on the uptake than you used to be._

She swung both guns around at him. “Alright, impostor –”

Yuuri kicked the gun out of her hands and caught her against the wall. “It’s me, woman! You pull on either of us again, I’ll wring your neck. Got it?”

She nodded weakly and he released her.

“I just got here from Toronto with barely a stop in between. That’s 4 hours straight of driving. I’m famished and so is Victor, so you better make us something good.” He paused and, remembering an earlier incident, added, “and edible.”

“Fine,” she grumbled.

Ten minutes later they sat in the kitchen, downing soup by the spoonful. Yuuri finished first and reclined in his seat, watching Aunt May out of the corner of his eye as he admired Victor.

“I still can’t believe you got engaged,” Aunt May said. “I didn’t know the innocent ones were your type and god knows we went through a hell of a lot of people, trying to figure out _who_ exactly was your type.”

Yuuri laughed. “I remember! Can any of them walk now?” He reached out and played with Victor’s hair. “It’s not innocent ones. It’s just Victor.”

“So…” Aunt May leaned forward with a nasty smile. “What’s Yuuri like in the bedroom?”

Victor chocked on his food and Yuuri knocked against his back, swearing under his breath.

“Yuuri!” Victor blushed. “I… uh…”

“C’mere,” Yuuri pulled him closer.

“Hmmm…” Aunt May grumbled. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“Just need somewhere to crash for a few nights,” Yuuri answered with a shrug.

Victor pulled away and looked into Yuuri’s face.

“Well, I don’t want you two screwing each other in my house!” Aunt May insisted.

“We won’t, I promise,” Yuuri said.

“Hmph!”

For a while they sat in silence. Victor took Yuuri’s hands and kissed each of them. Aunt May got up to clear the table. Victor moved to help her, but Yuuri held him down.

“You don’t need to do that. Let’s take a nap instead.”

He was very careful not to start anything when they entered the bedroom he always used. Yuuri pulled off his shoes, his jacket and his shirt before dropping onto the bed.

Victor followed his example and dropped down next to him. Yuuri pulled him close until his stomach touched Victor’s back.

“I just got spoonfuls of soup. Now I will get spoonfuls of Victor Nikiforov.”

And, of course, Victor flailed in embarrassment at this, making Yuuri chuckle. “I-if you want…” he stammered out at last.

“This is fun,” Yuuri whispered after a while. “Why don’t we do this more often?” He didn’t even wait for Victor to even try to say anything before answering his own question. “Oh, that’s right: because of your mad sex drive. I can never keep you satisfied.”

“Y-Yuuri!” Victor protested.

Yuuri kissed the back of his neck as his hands travelled over the living legend’s chest. “ _Are_ you satisfied?” he asked quietly.

“Yes! A-are you…?”

There was a quiet chuckle at that and then another kiss. “Of course.”

 

Aunt May was an old woman (the popular joke being that she couldn’t remember quite _how_ old) and had seen a lot in her life. She was sure she hadn’t “seen it all”, whatever that meant, because the world was a big and mad place, but she always thought she’d seen a big enough slice (if that word could be used here) of the world to not be surprised by anything.

She could see now that she was wrong.

She’d seen killer Yuuri come in, covered in blood, and ask her calmly for a glass of water. She’d seen him take out a group of people who tried to mug him right outside her apartment. She’d seen him in foul moods, cursing the world and shooting anyone who irritated him, and in slightly better moods when he made dark sarcastic comments and laughed. It was always a cold laugh.

Killer Yuuri is lonely, they said, and so they did the logical thing and tried to use this to turn it into his weakness. They sent honey traps, in fact, a whole crowd of them. She was prepared to swear that half of Detroit had tried to lure in Yuuri Katsuki.

She helped a few of them, more out of curiosity than any desire to really hurt the boy. One of them was sent by Phichit himself (and she swore afterwards to never reveal that, because that devil had something even on her).

But none of them got Yuuri. Men, women, he’d beat them up as soon as they tried to make a move on him and then calmly tie them up and drop them off in a ditch somewhere.

And here he was in the here and now, engaged and, by the looks of it, actually in love. And with a boy who looked like he belonged in a church choir and not in Killer Yuuri’s bed.

It was odd.

Something felt wrong to Aunt May.

She sat in the kitchen, mulling over this.

For Aunt May, for all of her age and wisdom, had never seen and, by extension, didn’t believe in true love. It was a fairy tale. It didn’t really exist.

And yet…

 

The next morning they sat in an old fashioned sandwich place Yuuri used to frequent in his Detroit days. Phichit explained the details of their upcoming operation in code while Victor drank the ice cream soda Yuuri had ordered for him.

Yuri had one arm around Victor as he planned death and destruction of people he’d never met. No one even noticed this. It had become so normal that would’ve surprised them all if it hadn’t been this way.

The fans below the ceiling spun lazily, as if they thought it wasn’t worth the effort to cool the room. A fly buzzed in the air above them. The waiters walked between the tables with trays of food in their arms.

Everything was at peace.

And just as the song over the speakers reached its final note Yuuri grabbed Victor and dragged him under the table.

The sleepy music was instantly replaced by its exact opposite: the sound of gunfire. People screamed. Dishes fell. Food dropped majestically to the floor. Phichit and Yuuri returned the fire, using the furniture as cover.

Victor stayed still and watched quietly as a pool of ice cream soda formed on the floor near his chair. His body was full of adrenaline again. He wanted to shout something at the top of his voice, just revelling in the sudden joy to be alive.

Yuuri, _his_ Yuuri, was giving them all hell and he wished he could think of something to shout at a moment like this to spur him on.

And when, much later, the shooting ceased and they ran out to take in the damage and ran into Guang Hong and Leo, who’d acted as their back up, and Yuuri turned over one of the corpses and Phichit confirmed that their intended targets had saved them time by coming to their own slaughter, and Yuuri said that he was going back to Toronto Victor couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed.

But only a little.

And when, several days later, he saw Yuri Plisetsky finally skate his short program he thought again of that moment when Phichit and Yuuri had planned their attack while the whole world held its breath.

Yuri finished skating and Victor took his Yuuri’s hands. “Kiss  me.”

“And the results for Yuri Plisetsky are –”

 

Yuri stood on the ice, ignoring Yakov’s usual lecture and Lilia’s interjections. He wasn’t even looking at Otabek this time. His eyes were on the living legend and his fiancé.

Any other day he would’ve had a thought like “I will beat you”, or “you’ll never be a six-time champion”, or even “how can someone like you be Russia’s hero.” He watched the way they looked at each other, just sitting there, side by side.

The world around them faded to the background.

_Agape. Self-sacrificing love._

He went out onto the ice to cheers from the audience.

He thought of Yuuri’s proposal and how shocked he’d been to see him actually do it right there in front of the whole world.

And the mad karaoke that had followed…

Yuuri Katsuki, despite the sarcastic comments, agreed to sing the sappiest duet available with Victor and, mad as it sounded, actually poured all his effort into getting it right.

And Yuri found, to his surprise, that he had a great singing voice.

He remembered what Otabek had said when they left together.

_“The way they love each other, you can’t help falling in love with both of them too.”_

It wasn’t Agape, but, in its own way, maybe it was.

And Yuri wasn’t going to think about that. Not at all.

The music ended and he froze in the final position.

 

“After the short program, Yuri Plisetsky is in first place!”

Yuuri broke the kiss and turned around.

The kid stood in the kiss and cry, his head raised proudly as his coach and choreographer applauded happily.

 _I will beat you, kid,_ he promised, gripping Victor’s hands with his. _I’ve beaten Victor and I will sure as hell beat you!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put together [Bad Apple Bingo](http://witharthurkirkland.tumblr.com/post/165846463113/bad-apple-bingo-because-when-i-thought-of-this-i), for anyone who wanted to play that with this fic, because I thought it would be funny.
> 
> Thank you for a wonderful 1st year, Yuri on Ice! You are the anime I always wanted! And, sappy as this sounds, every fic I write is my way of saying “I love you and thank you for existing” (regardless of the genre).


	52. Way Ahead of You

Mila was the last out on the ice. After the short program she was in first place, leading by several points. She went out on the ice after Sara. There wasn’t a single doubt in her mind that she would win another gold medal.

_One more and I’ll be tied with Victor for number of gold medals at World’s._

She found the living legend and his fiancé in the crowd. Yuuri ignored her completely. He’d been ignoring her ever since her explanation at his apartment. Victor’s eyes were on Yuuri. Two years ago she would’ve found his devotion disgusting. Now she would’ve been happy to get a chance to show it herself.

She wasn’t going to look around for Sara. She just wasn’t. She was Mila Babicheva, Death, head of the underground in Russia. People were terrified of her. She had an image to uphold. She wasn’t going to crawl back begging to be accepted back.

Her theme this year was discovery and exploration. It was at odds with how she felt, but it fit well with the image of Mila Babicheva, the top female figure skater.

It was time to stop dwelling on the past. It was time to move on. She was strong enough to get over heartbreak and move on. There was the future to think about. She had to win Yuuri back. She’d sent Phichit over to promise him backup, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough.

The music started to play. _I need you on my side, Yuuri. I will take out all your enemies for you, if that’s what it takes to get you back._

She had big plans for the future. Just because it wouldn’t include a certain Italian beauty didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be a future.

She jumped as she thought about how she’d win Yuuri back over. People who knew her well (or thought they knew her well) assumed she did all of her evil planning while sitting on a sofa at her headquarters and sipping champagne. No one realized that she did her best planning out here on the ice.

It was really funny, but probably no one would appreciate the joke.

Not even Yuuri Katsuki.

Once she thought they were very alike. Now she knew that they were actually very different.

She found herself making more plans for the future, as if the threat on Yuuri’s life had already been eliminated. She had no doubt they could handle it together.

She could handle it. She could handle anything.

The music was coming to an end as she jumped her final quad.

One, two, three, four rotations. Landing.

She messed up her landing and fell.

The shock of it knocked her into the here and now.

Of course she was up right away just in time to strike the final pose as the final note rang out. But that didn’t matter.

She’d messed up! Mila Babicheva never messed up!

Yakov waited for her at the kiss and cry with a surprised look on his face and she prepared herself for an earful. _Here it comes_ , she thought as she sat down next to him.

“You should’ve told me,” Yakov said quietly.

She stared at him. “What?”

He was looking away, letting her see only half of his face, making his expression a little difficult to read. “I know you only think of me as a skating coach, but even I know what heartbreak looks like.” He lowered his eyes. “And if you need to take time to deal with it you should tell me. We all need a rest sometimes.”

Was she really hearing this? Was Yakov trying to reassure her all because she’d flubbed a jump?

She wasn’t a little girl. She could deal with falls. She could deal with losses. She could put on a brave face and keep going.

She felt tears slide down her cheeks. They didn’t belong there, but there they were anyway.

Yakov put his arms around her. “You don’t need to hide your pain,” he whispered into her ear. “If you keep it bottled up for too long it will just build up until one day…” He didn’t continue, knowing she would understand.

Afterwards they would say that she wept over her loss, that her tears were because she’d messed up and ended up in second place, but that was afterwards. If they wanted to talk, she couldn’t stop them.

Well, she _could_ , but she wasn’t going to. Not this time.

It didn’t matter what the press wrote about her.

 

“How will you surprise the audience today, Yuuri?”

They were in the men’s bathroom, getting ready for the free skate. They were the only ones there. Yuuri fixed his hair in front of the mirror while Victor watched. Victor was trying to look as if it was nothing, even though it was obvious to anyone who could see the blush on Victor’s face that he liked what he saw. So Yuuri took his time.

Yuuri laughed and pulled something out of his pocket. He tossed it into Victor’s hands with a “Way ahead of you.”

Victor caught it and turned it around in his hands. “Lipstick?”

“Put it on. With a name like Russian Red it has to suit you.”

Victor gave him a questioning look, but applied it anyway.

“Now kiss me.”

Several seconds passed as the penny dropped for Victor. “Y-you want...?”

Yuuri pointed at his cheek. “Right here.”

Victor leaned forward and pressed his lips against Yuuri’s cheek. He pulled away and took in the imprint left behind by the lipstick.

“Now here,” Yuuri said, pointing at his jaw on the other side of his face.

It took several minutes, but the end result brought a big sly grin to Yuuri’s face as he admired himself in the bathroom mirror.

He gave a curt nod, dislodging a hair. “Good.” He raised a hand and adjusted his hair with a smirk. His ring caught the light. Then he looked at Victor’s reflection.

“Y-Yuuri... I... Is it okay?”

“You’ll need to freshen up your lipstick, my matador,” Yuuri said, elbowing him lightly.

“I-I mean...” Victor fidgeted. “That’s not... um... inappropriate, is it?”

“Why should it be?” Yuuri asked. “Aren’t you supposed to kiss your fiancé?”

Victor nearly jumped at the word.

“C’mere,” Yuuri pulled him close. He grabbed Victor’s behind with both hands and kissed him. He pulled away after a while and smirked. “Well? Isn’t it your turn soon?”

Victor closed his eyes and placed his forehead against Yuuri’s. “I love you.”

“Right back at you, Snowflake.” He slid his hands up Victor’s back. “I already know how I’ll celebrate my gold medal.”

“I’m skating for you today, Yuuri,” Victor went on.

“I had this great idea last night. I think you’ll appreciate it. I’ll have you inventing more variations on my name before the night is up,” Yuuri whispered.

Victor embraced Yuuri tightly. Yuuri could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest. Both their hearts.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep us safe,” he suddenly admitted. “I’m going to go meet that bastard head on and I’ll be lying if I say I know we’ll get out of it with our lives and limbs still intact.”

Victor gave a long sigh.

“We’ve tied our lives together for better or for worse, but if somehow we survive.” He snorted. “I’ll agree to any wedding plans you have.”

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, his heart beating faster.

“Now you’re _really_ excited, aren’t you?” Yuuri laughed. “Well, we’ve already got Phichit paying for everything, so might as well go all out. What would be the point otherwise? Come on, let’s go.”

 

Yakov gave Yuuri a disgusted look the moment he saw him. The skater knew no bounds and just enjoyed irritating everyone. If he hadn’t heard him confess to Victor in what sounded like a very sincere tone of voice, Yakov would’ve thought Yuuri only proposed to irritate everyone. He still couldn’t believe they hadn’t gotten disqualified for that. Maybe Yuuri arranged all this beforehand? But why?

Love made people do stupid things, he knew that. He’d done a few stupid things himself for Lilia before she married him.

He only hoped that Yuuri’s feelings were strong enough to make sure Victor would be safe. He’d wake up in the middle of the night remembering the terror he’d felt when they’d shot at him and his pupils as they left practice. They’d run for safety blindly and only afterwards he’d noticed that some of his pupils were missing. And then he knew.

Yuuri was involved in a gang. Of course he was. He’d made no secret of it: it was practically written all over him! He was a killer. And now the killer was engaged to Russia’s national hero.

Who was also his pupil.

Victor was out on the ice in front of his coach and his fiancé.

“I’m so happy,” he suddenly admitted. “I’m the happiest man alive.” He gave them a big and innocent smile, joining his hands together before turning away and going out onto the middle of the ice.

_How can someone like that be in love with a criminal? What does he see in Yuuri?_

“Do you seriously want to marry my pupil?” Yakov asked.

“Yes,” Yuuri said, his arms folded over his chest.

“And what does his aunt think about this?”

Yuuri laughed. “Sounds like you met her. And what does she think of you?”

“What does she think of _you_?”

“I’m her favourite,” Yuuri said.

_As if I’ll believe that. That woman is tough. She had to be to raise Vitya after her whole family died. How does she let you within a kilometer of her nephew? Although, I suspect that all the aunts in the world won’t stop you now._

 

Yuuri watched Victor lower his head in preparation for his routine with a smile. The lipstick imprints had scandalized and amused the audience, just as he’d expected.

 _Next time I’ll wear the lipstick and kiss your face,_ he promised.

The corrida began once more and Victor skated with the determination of someone whose life depended on his performance. He was really good at making it seem as if there was a bull out on the ice with him and Yuuri turned a few times instinctively, half expecting to see it before laughing at himself for falling for this trick.

He couldn’t help wondering how the routine would work as a duet.

_There’s something for us to skate, Snowflake._

He watched Victor, paying attention to the expression on his face.

 _Let’s see. You’re either thinking of me, or… What else do you think about with that expression on your face? Scratch that, there better_ not _be anything else._

Every element was clean and just right, as if to prove that _yes_ , this was the five-time world champion and that any observer who doubted that was stupid.

Yuuri never doubted it. He might’ve found Victor’s personality slightly at odds with this, but he never doubted his skill.

Victor really was the living legend, god of figure skating, an angel on skates and so on.

 

The living legend, god of figure skating, an angel on skates and so on was returning the attention Yuuri was giving him by thinking of him in return.

He forgot this was a competition. He forgot that he was competing against Yuuri. _I’m skating for you, Yuuri, and maybe this way I’ll be able to express my love for you at last._

He jumped and spun to the music, thinking of the satisfied smirk on Yuuri’s face when he took in his reflection with all of the lipstick imprints Victor had left behind on his face.

His time was running out. He changed a triple to a quad and still he felt on top of the world, ready to do anything. The thought of Yuuri was giving him more strength than ever before. Yuuri had promised to take him when he met their enemy head on. He had to be strong, if not for himself, then at least for Yuuri.

The corrida was coming to an end. It would be his last time skating this routine and it was time for the final kill for the final time. He jumped the quadruple flip and landed perfectly.

The audience exploded.

It was over. He was done.

“Incredible! Victor Nikiforov has just jumped five quads right before our eyes! He truly is the living legend!”

Victor listened to the cheers and applause, trying to catch his breath. He could feel the fatigue catching up with him now as the adrenaline wore off.

And then the cheers got louder.

He turned and saw Yuuri out on the ice with something red in his hands. He handed it to Victor.

It was a red cape.

Yuuri skated away, stopped, turned around and crouched down with his hands at his head, imitating horns. There was still lipstick all over his face.

Victor held the cape out and Yuuri charged. The audience clapped their hands excitedly, beating out a rhythm.

At the last possible moment, Victor slipped out of Yuuri’s way. Yuuri turned around and stopped. He raised his arms to more cheers.

And Victor left the ice.

He paused at the exit to turn around and look at Yuuri. He hadn’t dragged Victor into a whole routine. Did he see how tired Victor was and decide to spare him?

_Yuuri…_

“Vitya, that was completely mad!” Yakov exclaimed. “Have you lost your mind?”

Victor clutched the cape to his heart, his eyes still on Yuuri. _If you wanted to skate more with me, I would’ve stayed until my strength ran out._

“That pupil of yours is just as mad as you are! Between the two of you, who’s going to be the one to say enough is enough? Who’s there to keep you from killing yourselves?”

Victor turned and saw the worry on Yakov’s face. “Thank you.” He embraced his coach with a smile.

“I’m getting too old for this,” the coach grumbled.

They went to the kiss and cry. Victor dropped onto the bench, his legs no longer able to support his weight.

“…And Victor Nikiforov’s scores are…” the announcer shouted.

On the ice Yuuri turned to reward Victor with yet another smirk.

The audience gasped.

Victor felt Yakov put an arm on his shoulder. “Don’t do anything this crazy ever again, Victor,” he said quietly. And then he added, “Who am I kidding? You’re just going to keep doing it, aren’t you? Just like that mad fiancé of yours.”

“…I don’t believe it! Ladies and gentlemen! Another world record! How can we expect any less from the living legend? Can Yuuri Katsuki or Yuri Plisetsky beat him now?”

 

Yuuri listened to the announcer express his surprise in every way he could think of and watched Victor’s face.

Did he know his own limits? Yuuri wondered.

“Can Yuuri Katsuki or Yuri Plisetsky beat him now?” the announcer wanted to know.

 _Tune in after the commercial break to find out,_ Yuuri thought, turning away from his coach to get into his initial position.

Victor had skated for him. It was obvious from the look on his face, from every line of his body and, of course, the fact that he looked at Yuuri whenever he got the chance was a big tipoff.

Yuuri skated his program to show their enemy that their time was up.

_I’m not Victor. I don’t have the magic ability to jump quads until the music ends, but he’s mine now and that means that no one gets to decide what his future will be but me._

If he could go out on the ice in a motorcycle he would’ve done it. This was certainly the music to do it to. In fact, he could imagine it all too well.

 

_The audience waited impatiently until the world’s top figure skater came out onto the ice and just as they got to the right mixture of excited, angry and fed up out Yuuri Katsuki came, kicking up little bits of the ice and filling the air with a loud and annoying noise. Of course, riding a motorcycle while wearing skates was hard, but he was Yuuri Katsuki, so of course he could do it._

_There would be an impressive jump onto the ice and then, to music louder than his motorcycle had been, he would skate the most sarcastic, aggressive routine anyone had ever seen. What would be the point, otherwise? Why go out on a motorcycle, kicking up sparks (oh, maybe even with a flame coming out the back) and then skate to a piece of classical music?_

 

Yuuri tried to brush aside the rock concert version of figure skating out of his mind and focus on the skate itself.

It was time to use the free program as it was intended: not for flashbacks, or fantasies, or to send out deep and meaningful messages out to the world, but to win a medal. He wanted that gold, god damn it!

He’d already decided to skate it at the difficulty he’d set at the Grand Prix Final, but would it be enough to beat Victor?

_Do I have enough fairy dust for a fifth quad? I doubt it._

He wasn’t about to ask for a time out to sit down and calculate how many points what element would give him, so he did the next best thing and tried to increase the difficulty while sticking to four quads. With enough time this strategy could work. In theory. Just like invading a country during the coldest time of the year could work. In theory.

He sat next to Victor in the kiss and cry not long after and took in his scores.

Like an athlete who is only half a second behind in the race, he was a measly half a point behind Victor in the overall score.

“You win,” he said, looking at his coach and held out his hand.

Victor kissed his ring and said nothing.

What else was there to say?

“You’re more important to me than the gold medal.” Oh yes, there was always the option of saying something sappy.

“Are you saying you won’t take the medal when they give it to you?” Yuuri asked.

“Wh-what? N-no.” _Of course not! Because that would be going against the rules._

He grabbed Victor by his tie and pulled him into a kiss.

 

The kid went out last on the ice. Maybe there would’ve been a kind of symmetry in him winning here like he’d done in the Grand Prix Final. Maybe him winning would’ve symbolized the coming of a new age, the new generation of figure skating showing hope and giving the older ones a run for their money, or something along those lines. Maybe him winning would’ve ended Victor’s winning streak, or somehow deposed him from “shiny skating god status” to give that title to Yuri Plisetsky.

But he didn’t win.

He didn’t even end up in second place.

It wasn’t fair, but that was just life for you.

But, then again, if you were suicidal and the top figure skater in the world, you could always point out to him, while standing next to him on the podium, that “third place in World’s on your senior debut wasn’t so bad.” And then hold on to your stomach for the rest of the evening.

That was also an option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people write stories where people keep going blind and losing eyeballs, or about twins (or clones, or whatever), my thing seems to be lipstick imprints. Oops.  
> Sorry for taking so long. My life got really crazy in the last little while.


	53. Teach me Everything

The world’s top two figure skaters stood back to back on the ice in white shirts and black leather pants. Victor was also wearing his favourite tie, while Yuuri left the top two buttons of his shirt undone.

The music started and Yuuri raised an eyebrow, moving his shoulders slightly in a way reminiscent of the cold Eros routine. There was that cold smile on his face again. _I will never be yours,_ it told the audience.

He remembered all too well their first practice in the clothes they’d picked out for the skate. They’d flirted the whole time, driving Yakov insane.

 

_Yuuri went out on the ice. He undid all of the buttons of his shirt but the top one and pulled the shirt apart to reveal his stomach. Then he slid a hand down his stomach and into his all-too tight leather pants._

_“You want some of this, Snowflake?”_

_“Yes!” Victor exclaimed and put his hands over his mouth, blushing._

_Yuuri skated towards him. He stopped abruptly, kicking up tiny shards of ice. “Then come and get it!” he called out and turned around to dash across the ice._

_Victor jumped onto the ice and gave chase without even stopping to think._

_Yuuri went around, laughing. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Yakov watching with the expression of someone about to explode, despite all of their efforts not to._

You’ll just have to deal with it, old man.

_He turned, slowed down and held out his hands to catch Victor once he got closer._

_They went around together this time, Yuuri skating backwards with one leg raised, his eyes on Victor. He was a lost cause and he knew it._

_Ah hell, they both were._

In the here and now, he and Victor swung their hips to the music. Yuuri had enjoyed that sight too much when they’d practiced it and got Victor to repeat it for him several times, insisting that Victor was getting it all wrong and needed to practice it. And he’d naively bought it. It was incredible.

 _“Have you got colour in your cheeks?”_ The singer asked no one in particular and his mind returned to the skate itself.

 

Victor’s heart beat faster in his chest. Here he was skating with Yuuri again. Was it really that ridiculous to ask Yuuri to compete in pair skating with him? This way they would have to practice together all the time and they would always skate in the same competitions, but never as rivals.

_“Have you no idea that you’re in deep?_

_I dreamt about you nearly every night this week.”_

One day he would pluck up the courage to tell Yuuri how often he dreamt about him. And the most magical part was waking up to see the real person sleeping at his side.

They turned around to face each other and Yuuri held out his hand to take Victor’s.

The audience cheered happily as they circled the ice rink together.

_“How many secrets can you keep?”_

Victor smiled. _I will keep all your secrets, Yuuri. You know you can trust me with all of them, no matter how bad they are. I want to know everything about you. The more I learn, the more fascinated I get that someone like you exists. That someone like you even likes me, let alone loves me._

Each practice for this pair skate was like a blessing and Victor enjoyed every minute of it, including Yuuri’s dirty jokes and flirting.

Was he really engaged to the hot man in front of him?

He tried not to think about that, but to focus instead on the skate. He pushed all memories of how they practiced it out of his mind as well. How Yuuri had insisted “I’m not skating to something sappy again, or something meaningful. Let’s just find a fun song to skate to.” And then they’d stayed up late one night, going through YouTube videos until they found a song Yuuri was happy with. He’d sat between Yuuri’s legs as they went through song after song, because Yuuri had insisted that’s where Victor stayed. They were naked and still covered in sweat, because Yuuri had wanted some things to be done first. Victor switched between music videos as Yuuri slid his hands over Victor’s thighs and watched over his shoulder.

Victor’s face spread into a smile of pure bliss.

The song was really getting underway now and off they went around the perimeter of the rink.

He didn’t bring up wanting to skate in pairs anymore, afraid that he would just annoy Yuuri with it.

 

_“Maybe I’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody new.”_

Yuuri caught a hold of Victor’s tie and pulled him around the skating rink while going backwards. Several times during practice Yuuri would tell Victor how much he looked forward to pulling the tie off him in the bedroom, but now, for the first time, he didn’t think about that at all. There was a tender look in Victor’s eyes and Yuuri focused on them as he raised one leg in the air for the next element.

They went into the first lift. Yuuri climbed onto Victor’s thigh and arched back as Victor held him. Not caring for the official name, Yuuri called it “the knee to the face lift”. As before, he could feel Victor press his nose against his knee.

He climbed down, spun Victor around and held him from behind.

“I seem to spend all of my time these days behind you,” he whispered into Victor’s ear.

Victor blushed.

_“Been wondering if your heart’s still open and_

_If so I wanna know what time it shuts.”_

They pulled away, grabbed a leg each (their own, not each other’s) and spun in perfect synch with each other.

_“I’m sorry to interrupt it’s just I’m constantly_

_On the cusp of trying to kiss you.”_

Victor caught his hand as soon as the spin was complete. There was a triumphant smile on his face.

_Trophy boyfriend jokes aside, I can’t help feeling like you’re showing me off._

_“But we could be together, if you wanted to.”_

He picked Victor up and skated with the living legend raised over his head. It was a ridiculous lift. The audience cheered happily, because what else could they do?

_Yes, that’s right, all hail King Victor, yet again!_

King Victor was demonstrated to the whole audience and then – oh cruel separation! – they split up and headed for opposite ends of the skating rink.

The part that followed was one that everyone felt they needed to comment on and was lovingly dubbed “the synchronized double quad flip” by fans world-wide. Yuuri had labelled it, during practice, as “the synchronized double quad trip.”

They could’ve left each other lots of room and done it on opposite ends of the skating rink and that would’ve still been difficult to carry out properly, but would’ve been just fine. Very proper. Really boring.

No, they had to go towards each other and then jump at just the right moment in just the right spot so they could pass each other mid flip, and not hit the other person, and not fall and then – and here was the real kicker – land _at the same time_.

 _Cirque de Soleil is weeping with jealousy right now,_ he thought, once the deadly element was done.

When they’d demonstrated it to Yakov he had the look of someone ready to commit murder (or not murder _exactly_ , Yuuri corrected himself mentally, remembering the coach’s innocence in certain subjects, but definitely some yelling and maybe even a beating).

_Signature move? I give you the Katsuki-Nikiforov signature move! Or, maybe, the Nikiforov-Katsuki signature move. I still can’t decide which is better._

It was, as the press described it later, “a daring, passionate and mad skate that turned the heads of fans everywhere and summarized the relationship between the two skaters really well.” Yuuri just thought it was funny. His own little joke.

But Victor really got into it. He could see the way his eyes burned after the quadruple flip and smirked.

“I hope I won’t be disappointed tonight,” he whispered into Victor’s ear.

“I’ll do my best,” Victor promised like a schoolboy before an exam.

And, under the collective stare of the world, they circled the rink, Victor’s head reclined, his eyes closed and Yuuri’s lips pressed against the skin behind his ear.

_“Baby we both know_

_That the nights were mainly made for saying_

_Things that you can’t say tomorrow day.”_

The mad song went on, refusing to end, and Victor climbed onto Yuuri’s back in a move that went down in the Yuuri Katsuki dictionary of skating terms as “the ride”.

It was time for the final and most ridiculous lift of them all: the upside-down living legend. Yuuri held Victor’s legs as he clung on to Yuuri’s thigh. Very carefully he released his legs and let him get down on the ice.

As they neared the end, Yuuri loosened Victor’s tie and enjoyed the surprised look on his fiancé’s face.

_“Crawling back to you.”_

They stopped, facing each other and, on a whim, Victor took Yuuri’s hand and kissed it.

One ridiculous pair skate successfully completed.

The audience applauded and screamed loud enough for people in the next city to hear them and the skaters bowed.

The World Championship was over.

 

“Congratulations on winning your sixth gold at the World Championship, Mr. Nikiforov. Will you be going for your seventh one next year?” a journalist asked.

 _Or will you finally retire and give others a chance?_ Yuuri completed for him. Personally, he didn’t want Victor to retire. He wanted to take another shot at beating him in a skating competition. But that was the question that hung in the air. He could almost read it in the eyes of the press.

The top three figure skaters sat at the press conference as the press showered them with questions. It was a light shower mostly directed at Victor, making both Yuris wonder why they even bothered coming.

Victor smiled politely and gave the standard answer. It wasn’t surprising: in a way, he’d been trained to give the press polite, perfect answers. It was still impressive he could do it with a smile and a sincere tone of voice.

Yuuri resisted the urge to hit one of journalists as he half-listened to his fiancé’s answer. Victor’s future plans included bringing about world peace, ending world hunger and, if there was any time left over, kissing all the babies in existence. Maybe it wasn’t fair on his part to think like that, but Yuuri was getting bored fast and Victor’s answers were far too long for his liking.

_As much as I love you, Snowflake, I’d really much rather go back to our hotel room and let them write whatever the hell they like._

“And what about you, Mr. Katsuki? What are your plans for the future?”

Victor propped his head up on his arm and turned to look at Yuuri.

“I’m thinking of going for a really good ride.” On cue, Victor’s face turned red. He shifted in his seat, brushing his leg against Victor’s, getting a deeper blush this time and smirking at the result.

Several journalists exchanged embarrassed looks.

“You got engaged recently,” the journalist from before went on, clearly determined to get through all her questions. “Can you tell us about your wedding plans?”

Yuuri turned around to smile at Victor. It was a genuine smile this time. “Anything Victor wants.”

A sappy declaration like that could only be followed by something else equally sappy: Victor leaned forward and kissed Yuuri.

Someone clapped. Yuri groaned loudly and theatrically.

“Ugh! Can you guys stop being so gross for five minutes?” Yuri grumbled.

Victor pulled away and Yuuri opened his mouth to say something nasty, but Victor did something even worse. He put his arms around Yuri, exclaiming, “Aww! Yuri feels left out!”

“Get off me, old man!” Yuri grumbled, trying to push Victor off.

“You look like a family!” one of the journalists exclaimed, apparently starting to hallucinate.

“Yeah! The podium family!”

“What the hell?” Yuuri exclaimed. “How are we even _remotely_ like a family?” _You’ve got some serious issues, if you think we’re in any way like a family. And what does that even mean?_

Yuri echoed his words, waving his elbows in a way that threatened to hit Victor right in the face.

And then, after a suitably long pause, someone asked the big question. The question no one knew the answer to. “So... when is the wedding?”

 

Yuuri had a few drinks, but they weren’t having an effect on him. Not yet, anyway. He’d already earned a reputation as a wild drunk, so all he needed to do was drink a bit and then fake it. Who would know he was actually sober?

Even if he did let himself go, just the thought of the upcoming faceoff with his enemy was having a sobering effect on him.

Phichit was snapping photos of everyone to file away by name and date later. And probably to thoroughly analyze for compromising content too. Across the room Victor was telling Chris something while fidgeting with the ring on his finger.

It still felt a touch surreal, being engaged to Victor like he was. Was it a mistake? Probably. But it felt like one hell of a mistake.

He tossed his jacket onto a chair, loosened his tie (he hated the formal clothes he always had to wear at these events) and headed towards Victor with a determined expression.

“There you are,” he said, hitting Victor lightly on the shoulder. “Do I get a dance with the groom, or not?”

Victor flushed, but Yuuri grabbed him by the arms and pulled him onto the dancefloor.

“You look good, Snowflake. I bet you’d look better without your clothes on,” he said, remembering how Victor went on about how bad his memory was when he got drunk. “And probably even better in my bed. Will your fiancé get jealous, do you think?”

“B-but, Yuuri -!” Victor protested.

“I’d get jealous, if it were me,” Yuuri admitted. “I’d fly in and kill the bastard with my bare hands, if I ever caught you flirting with anyone else.”

They danced on as Victor searched for a suitable answer.

Yuuri pulled him close. “In fact, because the bastard hasn’t interrupted us, I think I’ll take you back to my room. We’ll see how fast I can get you moaning for more.”

“Yuuri!” Victor turned redder.

“Or do you prefer to whisper dirty things?” Yuuri spun him around. He could see that the conversation was turning Victor’s head. He stopped Victor after he made one complete spin and pulled him along across the dancefloor. “What do you prefer, six-time champion? Top or bottom?”

Victor covered his face with his hands, stopping mid-dance. “I-I don’t know. But you’re so much better at it than me, Yuuri!”

Yuuri laughed. “How do you know that?”

“Because – because you are!” Victor took Yuuri’s hands and turned him around. “I never know what to do, but you always do.”

Yuuri switched positions with Victor so that he was standing behind him as he slid his hands up Victor’s arms. “You’re very good,” he whispered. “You knock the breath out of me every time and leave me wanting more.”

Victor stared at him over his shoulder. “You’re not _really_ drunk, are you?”

“No. Do you want me to be?”

The expression on Victor’s face was enough of an answer for Yuuri. He led on and Victor submitted willingly. He wasn’t sure _what_ they were dancing, but it really didn’t matter.

“I want Chris to be my best man,” Victor said after a while. “Will you take Phichit?”

“Probably.” _It sounds about as sane as us getting married at this point._

“Will you wear a white tuxedo, Yuuri?” Victor raised a hand and touched Yuuri’s face.

“For you, Snowflake, I’m willing to get married naked.”

Victor blushed. “I’m going to wear a white tux.”

“If you grow out your hair, you’ll be the most beautiful person alive. Scratch that, you already are,” Yuuri whispered.

Victor put his head on Yuuri’s shoulder as slow music started to play. “You’re more beautiful than I am,” he said.

“Practice for the slow dance already?” Yuuri murmured.

“You entrusted your heart to me,” Victor went on. “I promise to take good care of it.” His hand slid up Yuuri’s back.

“Polish it up and carry it in your inside pocket?”

Victor raised his head and furrowed his brow. “What?”

“Alright. I’ve had enough sugar for a day,” Yuuri said, releasing Victor. Then he turned away. “Can we get some real music?” he shouted.

 

Phichit stood off to one side and watched as the dancefloor cleared to make way for Yuuri and Victor. As soon as the guitar intro started to play everyone else got the hint and cleared the way. After their pair skate no one wanted to interfere with whatever mad plans they had for a dance together.

Yuuri turned around and grabbed Victor’s hand. What followed was probably the most aggressive version of… actually Phichit wasn’t sure _what_ they were dancing. It had a mix of all kinds of dance elements and could’ve been almost anything.

But neither Yuuri nor Victor were interesting that evening. The person who drew his eye was Mila herself. She sat in the corner, downing glasses of champagne, one by one. Yakov stood over her, telling her something as she waved at him to go away.

The loss had really upset her then. He wondered how he could use this to his advantage. He looked around the room until he spotted Guang Hong and Leo standing next to each other and doing a little dance on the spot. If they joined forces, could they do it? Maybe if they had Yuuri’s help.

He searched around for Mila, but she was gone.

On the dancefloor Yuuri picked Victor up to cheers from everyone else. Victor stuck his arms out, as if he was imitating an airplane.

If everything went according to plan and they removed the person who kept trying to kill Yuuri, how much would their wedding cost, Phichit wondered.

 

Yuuri pushed Victor onto the bed and put one foot down next to him. He leaned down over Victor. The press conference, the banquet, all the formal parts were finally over, which meant that it was time for the most important part of the evening.

“What do you want, World Champion?” he asked.

Victor turned bright red. “I-I…” He swallowed. “Take me,” he whispered and slid his hands up Yuuri’s leg.

Yuuri pulled away and undressed slowly. The jacket already lay on the floor and soon his shirt joined it too. He tossed his pants aside next. A smirk played on his face as he watched Victor’s reaction.

“Let’s have some fun tonight,” Yuuri whispered. “When I go back I’m going to find the bastard responsible for chasing us. I’ll do my best to pull us through, but…” he pulled a hand through his hair and smirked, “this might be it, Snowflake.”

Victor put a hand over his face.

“Ah, I’ve missed the nose bleeding,” Yuuri joked. “Well, what do you think, coach?”

“Are you wearing a corset, Yuuri?”

“Yes, I am. Full marks for observation.” Yuuri pulled Victor up into a sitting position and then placed his coach’s hands on his waist. “And it’s a leather one too. Do you like it?”

Victor ran his fingers over it as if afraid it would explode. Yuuri, meanwhile, was wiping the blood off Victor’s face.

Yuuri had gotten it from Chris. He’d threatened to kill the man, if it ever got out that Yuuri Katsuki bought a corset from him.

 

_Chris laughed like someone who’d just heard a shark tell what might have been a joke, or what might have been just a story. “I’ve kept many of Victor’s secrets through the years. If he hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve introduced him to you years ago.”_

 

Yuuri had then threatened to kill or seriously injure everyone in the old gang as well as Mila, not caring how she’d react to that, if any of them interrupted his post banquet night with Victor.

_“Tonight is mine, got it? Any of you have urgent business with me, get it out of the way now, or wait until the morning. And I trust that, between all of you, clever and skilled killers that you are, you can organize something to make sure we’re not disturbed. Do I make myself clear?”_

_They nodded._

_He saw the looks they exchanged and smiled. Victor and he would be safe for that night._

 

Yes, Yuuri felt safe. For the moment. And, so, for the moment, he could do whatever he wanted.

“I just had an idea,” Yuuri said quietly. He found his phone in the pile of clothes on the floor and pulled it out. “You’ll like this.”

He pushed several buttons and then placed the phone on the bedside table. The Eros theme started to play. Victor got up and embraced him from behind.

“No,” Yuuri whispered, “not like that.” He took Victor’s hands and lowered them to encircle his waist.

“My dear Eros…” the six-time world champion whispered.

“Now _that’s_ a nickname I can live with,” Yuuri whispered back. “The God Eros is here to serve one Victor Nikforov for the night. Any requests?”

Victor kissed Yuuri’s shoulder. “A-anything is fine by me.”

“Am I going to have to teach you how to flirt as well?”

“Teach me… everything,” Victor replied, sliding his hands up and down the corset.

 _Not bad._ “I thought you were the coach. Isn’t it your job to teach _me_?”

Victor planted another kiss on Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Again…” Yuuri whispered.

And the World Champion obliged. He planted several kisses, going from Yuuri’s shoulder to his neck and then up to his ear.

“C-can you keep the corset, please?” Victor asked.

“I don’t see why not. Unless you want to try it on?” He turned around just in time to catch the look on Victor’s face. “What do you think, coach? Should I keep my underwear on?”

Victor stepped back. “T-take it off…” he whispered.

“Well, if you insist.” He made sure to keep his eyes on Victor as he pulled it off.

Several minutes of silence passed as they stood face to face, taking each other in.

“Coach Victor,” Yuuri said, stepping forward, “I have a very personal problem. Do you think you can help me? As a coach?” He watched Victor’s face to see if he would guess what his next words would be.

But, no, Victor gave him a worried look. “Is something wrong, Yuuri?”

 _Seriously?_ “Yes. I think my fiancé doesn’t love me anymore.”

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed.

“It must be because I didn’t win that gold medal,” Yuuri went on relentlessly.

“Yuuri!”

“Oh, you’re absolutely right, coach, I should get some sleep after the –”

Victor chose this moment to interrupt and make sure that Yuuri couldn’t continue talking by pressing his lips against Yuuri’s.

When he pulled away, he was unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m sorry, Yuuri, I…”

“I knew you’d get the hint eventually, Snowflake.” Yuuri smirked.

Victor undressed hastily and lay down on the bed and for a mad second Yuuri thought he’d fainted. As soon as he was sure this wasn’t the case, he climbed over him.

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered, “I… uh…”

Yuuri waited. A million lifetimes didn’t pass. He didn’t have the time to figure out the meaning of life. The universe didn’t die and get reborn again. The rest of the sentence came almost right away.

“I want us to compete in pair skating, Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed.

Yuuri laughed. He leaned down and kissed Victor’s neck as his hands slid over the bed and onto Victor’s body. “Well, I’m definitely in the mood for a… pair skate right now, Snowflake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I keep borrowing things from Tessa and Scott’s skates, I know, I know, sorry. Actually, not sorry. They’re awesome and the show borrowed from them as well. So there.  
> Anyway, there was a conversation in the comments for the last chapter about art.  
> I give you [Matador Victor](https://twitter.com/juqovanni0301/status/888712616318615554) and [Yuuri with lipstick on his face](https://twitter.com/en_eeen/status/801331140275617794?s=09). I was actually thinking of that art when I wrote the scene in the previous chapter.
> 
> Also, I may have hit all the squares in the Bad Apple Bingo with this and the previous chapter... maybe.


	54. You Were Many of my Firsts

Yuuri Katsuki lay in his bed back in his parents’ home in Hasetsu, unable to sleep. Victor lay on top of him, his face buried in Yuuri’s chest. Yuuri stroked Victor’s hair absent-mindedly, lost deep in thought.

He’d come back home. Not because he was a sentimental old man who needed to see his parents before risking life and limb (as well as his fiancé’s life and limb) in a big showdown with his enemy. He’d come back because, conveniently enough, this was where his enemy was. In Hastesu. Which was an odd place for a secret lair, but, then again, maybe not.

Yuuri’s mind wasn’t dwelling on the dangers that lay ahead or how he would deal with them (which is something it would’ve been doing a year ago). No, it was on Victor and how unfair it was that he had to risk his fiancé’s life.

Victor had insisted on coming, refusing to take no for an answer. He’d made Yuuri swear several times that he’d take him before they left for Hasetsu, back when they were still in their apartment in St. Petersburg.

Now Victor was clinging to him in his sleep.

Yuuri thought back to their conversation at the banquet. Victor was already thinking about their wedding, making plans like someone who didn’t doubt for a moment that Yuuri would deal with their enemy without any problems.

He raised his hand and held it out in front of him. It was dark in the room, but still he imagined he could see the ring gleam on his finger.

Victor had been impatient all through dinner, making Yuuri realize just how much they’d grown used to being only in each other’s company.

 

_Victor rushed ahead to Yuuri’s bedroom, not even bothering to check if Yuuri was following him. Yuuri caught him by the hand with a chuckle._

_“What? D-don’t laugh at me, Yuuri!” Victor protested, turning bright red._

_“I’m not laughing at you,” Yuuri lied._

_They stood in the hallway, staring at each other as if seeing the other person for the first time._

_Moonlight illuminated the hallway, throwing shadows on the walls, and Yuuri suddenly remembered Victor’s first day in Hasetsu. Did he really push him away back then? Would his life had been easier now, if Victor had left him alone then?_

_He already knew the answer to that one. Yes, it would’ve been easier, but probably because he would’ve been killed by now. Things are amazingly easy when you’re six feet under._

_“Come here, Snowflake.”_

_Victor’s face split in a big grin. He took Yuuri’s face with his hands and kissed him._

_He released Yuuri and pulled him along by the arm. “Come on.” He opened the door and pulled Yuuri in through the doorway of his own room._

_Yuuri leaned against the doorway and watched the six-time world champion undress as if it was another figure skating element and sit down on the bed with a smile._

_“Come here.” Victor patted the space next to him just in case Yuuri needed an explanation of where “here” was._

_Yuuri smirked and sat down. “Now what?”_

_“T-take your clothes off, please.”_

_“How do I do that, coach? Will you teach me?”_

_Victor blushed. “Y-Yuuri don’t… don’t tease me.” He took a deep breath. “Please.”_

_“Why not?”_

_What could he answer to that? No, really: what? Yuuri waited, genuinely curious to see how this would turn out._

_Victor fidgeted. “I… um… don’t you want to…”_

_Yuuri slid a finger down Victor’s nose. “What do you think?”_

_“Say you love me again,” Victor asked._

_Yuuri unzipped his jacket and tossed it aside. “I love you, Snowflake.” He pulled his shirt off and said it again. And again when he got up and pulled off his pants. “I love you,” he said for the fourth time as he pulled off his socks. And a fifth “I love you” followed when he took off his underwear._

_“Well?” He stood with his hands on his hips. “Was that enough for you? Or do you need to hear it again?” He leaned down, bringing their faces really close._

_Victor blushed, took Yuuri’s head and, with a completely serious look on his face, asked, “Can I please ride you tonight, Yuuri?”_

_Yuuri chuckled and sat down onto Victor’s knee. “I thought you’d never ask.” He kissed the skin behind Victor’s ear. “I’m all yours, Snowflake.”_

_He let Victor decide what he wanted to do after that._

_And when Victor had enough he lay down on his stomach by Yuuri’s side, propped his head up on his hands and made wedding plans aloud. And then he talked about their future._

_Yuuri had an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach. Victor wasn’t naively assuming Yuuri would deal with the threat. Victor was fantasizing just in case this was the closest he ever got to the real thing._

_Yuuri listened absent-mindedly to a story of them both growing old side by side as he rubbed Victor’s shoulders with his thumbs and said nothing._

_What could he say about the sandcastles Victor was building?_

This is why I should never have fallen in love, _Yuuri thought bitterly._ This is why gang leaders don’t settle down with a family and kids. Once you settle down, you stop and once you stop your enemies catch up with you. And you’ve been nice enough to give them more targets for practice.

_The more Victor went on, the more it hurt._ Stop it, Snowflake, just stop. How the hell do I get you to stop?

_“Ride me again,” Yuuri interrupted._

_Victor cut off mid-word and stared. “What?”_

_“You heard: ride me again. I’m getting all worked up just looking at you, Snowflake.” He pulled Victor closer and moaned into his ear, “Will you give me more?”_

_Victor blushed and nodded._

_It wasn’t long after that that he drifted off._

And now he slept the deep sleep of someone with a clean conscience.

“Yuuri!” Victor whispered, returning Yuuri’s mind to the present.

Or not.

“Yuuri, I’m frightened,” Victor whispered and clung on tighter.

“Why?”

“You’ll just laugh again,” Victor answered.

He _could_ laugh and dismiss Victor’s fears with a wave of his hand, but Victor was visibly shaking. Whatever it was it had left a really strong impression.

He opened his mouth to say “Did you have a bad dream?” just as Victor said, “I… um… I had a bad dream.”

Yuuri reached out for the light switch and flicked it.

Victor sat up with a terrified look on his face. There were tears rolling down his cheeks. “It’s stupid, I know, but I can’t…” He wept, gulping down his tears, his hands pressed to his eyes. “Ah! I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. Now you must think I’m just a little baby!”

What hurt more? That Victor worried more about Yuuri’s opinion of him as he wept or the sight of Victor weeping? What did it matter? Both hurt a lot.

“I’m not exactly on top of the world myself right now, you know,” Yuuri admitted in a hushed tone. He saw the look Victor gave him and scowled. “And don’t take it so personally. I haven’t been in a good mood in a long while.” He sat up, propping himself up on the pillow. “I’d much rather be in St. Petersburg right now.” He chuckled darkly. “Hell, I’d rather listen to your silly wedding plans right now. That’s a first if ever there was one.”

Victor lowered his hands. The tears had stopped and there was just the hint of a smile on that face. “Yuuri, I don’t think I ever told you, but you were many of my firsts,” Victor admitted.

Yuuri chuckled, trailing fingers through Victor’s hair. “You don’t need to tell me. I _know_. It’s obvious.”

Victor lay down and propped up his chin with his hands, his elbows resting on Yuuri’s chest. “I don’t mean just sex.” He blushed a little under Yuuri’s stare. “You were my first kiss.”

“Well, I figured that one too,” Yuuri admitted. He reclined, putting one hand under his head as his other one slid over Victor’s back.

“A-and um…” Victor paused uncertainly.

“Let’s see if I can guess what else,” Yuuri mused aloud. “First bike ride, first time being coach, first time rebelled against.” He cast his mind back, wondering what else there was. And then, jokingly, threw in, “First nosebleed?”

“Yes!” Victor exclaimed.

“Oh really?” He couldn’t explain why he felt so flattered at this. It was a stupid thing to feel flattered about.

“B-but um… before I became your coach,” Victor admitted.

“Do tell.” Now he was curious. He was always curious to hear stories of Victor’s pre-coach era that had to do with him.

 

_It was the year after Yuuri had saved Victor’s life. Victor was competing at Skate Canada along with Yuuri and several other skaters. Probably. They must’ve been there, but Victor couldn’t remember who else competed against them that time._

_When they arrived at their morning practice Victor found his attention constantly wandering. Yakov was lecturing (as usual), but Victor didn’t catch a word that left his lips._

_Yuuri Katsuki walked past him towards the ice rink. There was a cold look on his eyes. His coach stood by the ice and remained silent. As he got near the ice Yuuri gripped the top of his Japan jacket with his teeth and pulled the zipper down aggressively._

_Victor felt his mouth drop._

_Yuuri went out on the ice as calmly as ever, as if he hadn’t just released an illegal amount of sex appeal._

_“Vitya! Are you alright?”_

_“Hmm… What?” Victor asked, unable to tear his eyes away._

_“Your nose is bleeding!” Yakov hissed, wiping Victor’s face clean with a tissue._

_“Oh!” Victor stared down at the blood on the tissue and then back at Yuuri Katsuki. “_ Oh _.”_

Yuuri listened to Victor’s story with a smile. “And in that moment I wished I was your jacket,” he concluded for Victor.

Victor covered his face with his hands. “Yes.”

Yuuri chuckled and said nothing after that. Well, almost nothing. He said Victor’s name several times and there were certainly a lot of other noises too, but they didn’t really count as speaking. Did they?

 

It was breakfast time for the Katsuki family and Victor got the seat of honour. Next to him Yuuri was loading up his plate with the best food on the table (or, at least, he called it the best food). He wouldn’t let anyone else serve Victor anything that morning, not even his mother.

Victor felt his heart tremble. There was that fear again. He wouldn’t give in to it, he told himself. No matter what happened, he would believe Yuuri would pull them through somehow.

_If all I lose is my skating career, but I can still marry you, that’s good enough for me._ He watched Yuuri get into an argument with his sister and wondered if Yuuri would still marry him if he ended up in a wheelchair.

And then Victor’s mind turned to Yuuri’s family.

The Katsuki family had taken Victor in as if he was one of their own. Each time he and Yuuri returned to Hasetsu they both got the same warm welcome.

Was it really right for Victor to take Yuuri away like he had? Was it right for them to live in Russia together? Did it really matter _where_ they lived as long as they were together?

“Cut that out,” Yuuri muttered.

“What?”

“Worrying,” he explained. “I can see it in your face: you’re feeling guilty about something. Stop it. Whatever it is, it’s not your fault.”

“But –”

“It’s not. If you’re looking at them and feeling sorry, don’t. They’ll go on without me.” Yuuri spoke as if they weren’t in the room, but still he kept his voice down to avoid being heard.

“But –”

“They’ll have to.”

He closed his mind to the image of Mrs. Katsuki breaking down when she found out that Yuuri – no. He wouldn’t. Victor would make sure he wouldn’t.

Afterwards they went out for a walk together. He leaned on Yuuri’s arm and neither of them said a word.

It was spring again, just like it had been when he first came to Hasetsu. The trees all around them were in bloom. Last time they visited Hasetsu it was winter and everything was dead. Now it was all coming back to life. It felt wrong to think about death at a time like this and yet he couldn’t help it.

They found a bench to sit on and Victor put his head on Yuuri’s shoulder.

“I’m going tonight,” Yuuri said quietly.

“You mean: we’re going,” Victor corrected him.

Yuuri made an impatient sound. “Yes, obviously.”

“Yuuri,” Victor said after a big pause, “if…” he swallowed, “if I get in your way –”

“Shut up,” Yuuri said through clenched teeth. “I already told you: I don’t want to hear it.”

“Will you throw your life away for me?” Victor asked.

“Yes!” Yuuri exclaimed. “Definitely! I thought it was obvious?”

Victor blushed. “Really?”

“Really.” Yuuri leaned in to seal the promise with a kiss.

 

“We’re going out for a ride,” Yuuri told his family as he and Victor walked past them towards the door.

It was evening. The sun had already set and the sky outside was growing darker with every second.

He walked on, hoping Victor would follow without stopping. He really didn’t want to deal with a real goodbye right now.

“Thank you,” Victor said, “for everything.”

_Well done, Snowflake! Now they’ll get suspicious._ He grabbed Victor’s arm and dragged him out before he could say anything else, before the meaning of his words sunk in far enough for his family to ask what Victor had meant.

He didn’t want a sappy goodbye. He didn’t want his mother to kiss him and give him her blessing before he went off on his “great and noble quest”. He wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible so he could return, act as if nothing had happened and then go home to St. Petersburg.

Home.

He pulled Victor close.

They walked on until they reached his bike where they both stopped. Yuuri picked Victor up and sat him down on it. He took Victor’s face with both hands and kissed him.

Several times he tried to tell himself that enough was enough and tried to wrench himself away, but he kept coming back for more. _You have no idea what you’ve done to me, Snowflake._

“Yuuri…” Victor moaned between kisses.

“Alright,” he said, breaking free at last, “you’re going to stay behind me. At the first sign of danger I want you to run as fast as you can.”

“What?”

“You heard me: run and hide as fast as you can. I can look after myself.”

“I love you, Yuuri,” Victor said.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” he waved it off impatiently. “Move over so I can get on.”

Victor moved to his usual spot on the motorcycle’s seat and Yuuri climbed on in front of him.

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered, his arms wrapping around Yuuri, “I want to compete in pair skating.”

“Yeah, I know.” _You really picked a great time for it, Snowflake!_

“And I want Yakov to be our coach.”

Yuuri burst out laughing. “I’m pretty sure that’s his worst nightmare. Right after the one where all of his pupils don’t win a single medal.”

Victor giggled.

Yuuri considered making a joke about Lilia, but changed his mind. He wasn’t sure what Victor would think of that.

And that seemed like a good place to end the conversation.

It he’d been on horseback, his horse would’ve reared up dramatically before they rode off, but he was on a bike and rearing up was stupid in any case.

Off to Hasetsu Castle!

Oh yes. His rival was dramatic enough to have placed his secret lair in the biggest landmark of the city.

_No wonder those thugs knew the directions there!_ Yuuri thought as soon as he’d found out.

Well, and its position on top of the tallest hill in town helped too, he supposed.

The journey was short, way too short for his liking, despite the fact that he’d insisted that he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

He parked the bike and climbed off, scanning his surroundings for any signs of danger.

Then again, someone ridiculous enough to pick Hasetsu Castle wouldn’t kill them right there. Even if it _was_ the smarter way to do it. No, they’d wait until Yuuri fought a few henchmen, got past a few obstacles before appearing like the final boss in a game.

He wasn’t sure what that meant for Victor and pulled him close. “Stay near me, alright?”

He made for the front doors, thinking back to the time when Victor asked to be taken here. And to think, if he’d just gone inside then maybe he could’ve been sleeping peacefully in St. Petersburg right now.

Yuuri put his hands on the front doors, wondering what he would do if they were locked and pushed them open. Or tried to.

They _were_ locked, which probably meant his rival wasn’t all that stupid.

Yuuri pulled out his gun and shot at the lock. It made a lot of noise and announced their arrival to anyone within a mile radius, but anyone looking out of a window would’ve seen them coming anyway.

The doors, part of the cultural heritage of Hasetsu, gave way after that.

He barged in, wondering if burning the place to the ground would’ve been a better approach.

It wasn’t dark inside. Someone had been considerate enough to leave the lights on, making their progress down the hall so much easier.

It didn’t take long for Yuuri to notice that some corridors were lit while others weren’t. In fact, all it took was a few minutes walking and then reaching the first fork.

The choice was simple enough: walk through a corridor in the dark, or a corridor in the light. It could’ve meant anything from some kind of symbolism to someone trying to save on their electricity bill.

“Turn to the right and you’ll find your destiny. Go to the left and you’ll lose your head,” Victor murmured not quite under his breath.

“What was that?” Yuuri spun around to face him.

“Just a line from a children’s tale,” Victor explained.

What would be a better time to remember a children’s tale than when inside a ninja castle on top of a hill with who knew how many assassins creeping around?”

Creeping around in the dark.

Yuuri eyed both corridors.

The lit up corridor looked open and inviting. Far too inviting.

He knew all too well how this went. Putting a hand over Victor’s mouth, he said, “Well I obviously want to stay alive and who knows what may be lurking in the dark?”

He stuck his hand in his pocket, pulled out a knife and – oh the hell with it! Why weren’t there ever convenient rocks when he needed one?

It was a good knife, but it wasn’t worth much. Not as much as two lives, anyway. He lobbed it into the hallway, making it bounce off the floor several times before it fell.

Victor tried to say something, forgetting that Yuuri’s hand was over his mouth, and failed.

The floor fell away and the walls grew long sharp spikes. It was the most dramatic ending to a game of knife hopscotch Yuuri had ever seen.

Yuuri grinned and folded his arms over his chest with a satisfied smirk.

Should he scream just in case someone was listening on the other side of the wall? Ah, it would probably be too much. Besides, it was too late now.

He turned around to see the look of admiration on Victor’s face and brush the praise aside like it was nothing (which was true: it _had been_ nothing). He prepared a joke about that night, but all that froze on his lips.

The nicely empty corridor was not as empty as it had been: there were men on all sides of them, apart from that side which led to the corridor of death. One caught Victor in an arm lock while the others pointed guns at him.

“Come quietly,” hissed the one that held Victor, “and we won’t kill your boyfriend. Heh, Boss might even feel generous and let him walk away with his life.”

Yuuri’s face was impassive. “And why do you think that holding Victor at gunpoint will make me come quietly?”

“Because you’re in love with him, obviously,” the man answered.

Victor stayed absolutely still. Whatever Yuuri was planning, he trusted him completely. Yuuri could see that trust in his eyes and he resisted the urge to comment.

Yuuri raised a gun and pointed it at Victor’s neck. “How much do you want to bet?”

“What are you doing?” the main thug asked.

“Proving you wrong,” Yuuri said.

Four shots rang out in succession.

There was a tender look in Victor’s eyes. “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After all the jacket art I had to put something about the jacket game into this fic.  
> Is anyone still curious who the person trying to kill Yuuri is? Because you'll find out soon.


	55. I Couldn’t Fight Them Off

“How melodramatic,” Yuuri rolled his eyes and lowered his gun.

The thugs around him fell to the ground, no longer alive enough to support their own weight and succumbing to gravity. The one that held Victor loosened his grip.

Yuuri pulled Victor free, kicking the thug away.

“What happened?” Victor asked. Despite all his faith in Yuuri, he was shaking. He tried to suppress it, but had no luck.

“Backup,” Yuuri explained, pulling Victor into an embrace.

Backup arrived in the shape of five people.

Victor turned to stare at them as Yuuri moved his arm from Victor’s waist up over his back and onto his shoulder where he draped it, resting his weight against Victor.

“Had to use you as a distraction,” he said quietly. “I knew they were coming, of course.”

Victor wasn’t looking at their rescuers, but at Yuuri now. There was that lopsided smile on his face and Victor knew Yuuri hadn’t liked what he’d been forced to do.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said, kissing Yuuri’s cheek.

“Really?” he heard Yuri exclaim. “There are four dead guys on the ground and you decided _this_ was the spot to make out?”

“Shut it,” Yuuri growled, snaking an arm around Victor’s waist and pulling him close. “Victor can make out with me anywhere he likes.”

“Why don’t we keep going?” Phichit cut in.

“Roll call time,” Yuuri muttered, just loud enough for Victor to hear. “Phichit, Otabek, the kid, Guang Hong and Leo. Are we all here? Yes, we are.” He frowned. “Why are _you_ here, anyway?” he asked Yuri. “Shouldn’t you stay at home where no one can shoot at you?”

Yuri glared at him, pulled out a gun ( _actually_ pulled out a gun) and shot one of the corpses on the floor.

There were several seconds of stunned silence after that. Judging by Yuri’s expression, several seconds he really enjoyed.

“Beka taught me what you should’ve taught me ages ago.” He stepped up close to Yuuri. “So I’m not just _some kid_ you need to protect, alright? I can fend for myself!”

Victor looked at Otabek and then back at Yuri.

“And Beka might even teach you too. If you ask nicely, Victor,” Yuri offered.

“Yeah, whatever. Let’s just go,” Yuuri muttered.

Victor watched Yuuri clench his jaw as they walked down the hall. He didn’t like what Yuri just told him and Victor wondered if Yuuri was angry because of Yuri’s tone, or if he didn’t like that Yuri knew how to fire a gun.

And then he thought about Otabek. But only briefly.

His thoughts returned to his favourite subject almost right away: Yuuri Katsuki. And his heart did a flip in his chest.

 

Otabek walked down the hall without saying a word. He could feel the way they were all looking at him after Yuri’s bold declaration. But he felt no guilt whatsoever about his decision. Not after what happened before. He wasn’t going to reminisce about _that time_. Not now.

“Hey! I found the light switch!” Phichit called out and flicked it with an excited, “Let there be light!”

It looked like they weren’t going to try to slip in quietly.

On the other hand, Otabek thought, they’d already made enough noise to be noticed when they took those attackers out.

“Why do they have to be so annoying?” Yuri said quietly, cutting into his thoughts. “We shouldn’t have taken them with us.”

Otabek said nothing.

There was that look of hero worship in Yuri’s face again.

Oh well. He’ll learn one day…

 

_It was his first real, proper case. It was also his last real, proper case._

_He spent weeks undercover in one of the shadiest neighbourhoods, gathering information on all of the drug dealers in the area. This was a lead to a major underground network, he was sure of it._

_Every morning he would wake up in his tiny apartment, get dressed and then go down to the housekeeper’s kitchen for breakfast. She was a young, single mother who let out the rooms to keep food on the table and a roof over her and her son’s head._

_His name was Bill. He’d dropped out of high school to get a job to help his mother out._

_Otabek posed as a construction worker. He came in exhausted every evening, but still he didn’t mind telling Bill silly stories that the boy swallowed up eagerly._

_He didn’t notice when it happened, but by the time he realized what happened it was too late._

_Way too late._

_It was another grey morning. Otabek was on his way to work when he saw a little stray cat stop and hiss at him. And he thought of Bill._

_In a week or so he would be gone from his life and never see him again. And Bill would never know Otabek’s real name or his real job._

_It was for the best, he tried to tell himself, but didn’t sound convincing enough._

_The sound of gunshots interrupted the morning silence. They were coming from behind him._

_He spun around and ran, forgetting his cover and remembering only that he was a cop. Dread built up in the pit of his stomach as he ran._

_It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. The world wouldn’t be so cruel._

_Someone grabbed him and pulled him into a side street. He tried to kick out and shout, but a hand slapped over his mouth just as his back hit a wall._

_A face loomed over his._

_“Bill?” His voice came out muffled through Bill’s hand._

_The boy nodded, stepping away. “They’re having a shootout with the neighbours. Those crackheads are always fighting over territory!”_

_His eye fell on the gun in Otabek’s hand. He’d pulled it out without thinking and really regretted it now._

_“Cool! I didn’t know you had a gun!”_

_Otabek pocketed it. “I need to go to work.” He turned away to leave, but Bill followed close behind him. “Can you teach me how to shoot a gun?”_

_“No.”_

_“And why not?” Bill demanded._

_Otabek stopped and turned around to face him. “Because then you’ll carry one around. And if you carry one around, you’ll become a target.”_

_“But you have one!” Bill pointed out._

_Otabek nodded. “I do.”_

_He kept going. He couldn’t teach Bill how to shoot. He just couldn’t. It was wrong. He was sure of it._

_He wasn’t so sure of it two weeks later when he found Bill’s mother dead on the floor and Bill bleeding to death next to her. There was a gun in the boy’s hand._

_“I tried to fight them off,” Bill insisted. “I tried! But I couldn’t! Why couldn’t I do it?”_

_“Bill, who was it? Who shot you and your mother?” Otabek asked, holding up the boy’s head._

_“I couldn’t fight them off,” Bill whispered and let out a sigh. Otabek imagined he could feel the boy’s soul drift past him._

_A roar started down in his stomach and rumbled up through his chest to escape from his mouth. It wasn’t a human sound, but that of a wounded beast that knew nothing other than its own pain._

_His head dropped helplessly onto the boy’s chest and he went silent._

_He fought for justice for the boy, but when the cops came they saw what they wanted to see: a young man murdering his mother because of money and then turning the gun on himself. Case closed._

_He demanded to be allowed to investigate, but they tried to move him to a different assignment. They tossed the case aside, their eyes and ears closed. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t important._

_And Otabek’s world went black._

_He’d worn the uniform proudly, believing in justice and protecting the innocent. Now he tossed it out with Bill’s bloodstains still all over it._

_He tried to find the killer alone, tracking them as best as he could, relying on whispered rumours and supposed sightings._

_And then one night he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and saw what he took to be a young defenceless woman attacked by ten full-grown men. So he rushed to her aid._

_This was Otabek’s story. This was how a cop with ideals and principles ended up working for one of the most dangerous leaders of the underworld._

 

Otabek looked at Yuri as they continued walking down the hall. In the last few months he found something new. He found someone to protect.

“What?” Yuri asked.

“Nothing,” Otabek replied and looked away.

It wasn’t fair to drag Yuri into this and Otabek promised himself that he wouldn’t be caught off guard this time around.

Somewhere Fate was having a good laugh.

When they came to the next fork Otabek turned around to say something only to discover that Yuri was missing.

A wall came down, cutting off any possibility of retreat. Another wall came down to block off one of the tunnels, taking away their choice.

“I’m starting to feel like a ball inside a pinball machine,” Yuuri muttered.

He grabbed Victor above the elbow and led the way.

 

If anyone had any doubts that their adversary had a tendency to be needlessly dramatic, this would probably convince them.

Yuuri looked around and headed down the only path before him. He didn’t bother checking if they were following him or not. He knew Victor was there. He couldn’t care less whether the others were there or not. They could fend for themselves, anyway.

His enemy had him where he wanted him, making sure Yuuri couldn’t go anywhere else, but it was far too late to say “you know what? I’ve changed my mind”. The passages led down, deeper into the hill.

“I bet there’s another exit down there,” Yuuri said. “This is going to be so annoying when I have to go back up for my bike.”

Victor was quiet. Yuuri looked at him. Was he terrified? No, that wasn’t it. Worried was probably a better word for it.

“Yuri is missing,” Victor whispered.

“Yeah, I noticed. They’re probably keeping him hostage for when I get there.” He wasn’t worried about the kid. Of course not. Why would he be worried about the kid? That was Otabek’s job.

“He’s only sixteen,” Victor whispered.

“And I’m sure we’ll have lots of fun crashing his next birthday party.” _If I actually remember to do it before he turns seventeen._

_“Podium family.”_ Yuuri remembered.

They were silent after that, not sure what else to say.

Yuuri opened his mouth to say, “I don’t like it. It’s too quiet”, which was always a dangerous thing to say aloud, changed his mind and opted for looking around instead. “I knew it,” he said as nonchalantly as possible, “they’re all gone.”

“Yuuri…” Victor whispered, clinging to his side.

“Keep going,” Yuuri said. “Don’t say anything. Just keep going.”

There was someone up ahead.

Yuuri pulled out his gun and aimed as he and Victor walked on,

When they got close enough they recognized Mila. She watched them with her arms crossed and a sour smile on her face.

 

Otabek wanted to go back. He _needed_ to go back. He was the one who’d dragged Yuri out here and that made him responsible for the boy’s well-being.

But how do you go back when there’s a solid wall between you and where you want to go?

He tried the old method of running his hand over it to see if that would give him a way to get rid of it. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t work.

He then ran his hands over the neighbouring walls to see if there was a hidden switch of some kind. He hit the floor with the heel of his foot in different spots.

Click.

He found a hidden switch!

But before he could rejoice at his success the wall gave way under him and he was gone.

Two down. Five more to go.

 

Phichit had a good sense of self-preservation. Right now it was ringing every bell and sounding all of the alarms to tell him that he was a moron for coming here and that pretty soon he’ll be a dead moron. He did his best to ignore it and kept going.

Something caught his eye and he stopped to look at it.

There was blood dripping down the wall. Their enemy was playing mind games with them now. Well, he wasn’t going to let that get to him. He turned away and kept going.

He didn’t know that in the few seconds he’d taken his eyes off his companions the walls shifted, forcing him to take a different route from his friends.

The light went out. Something pierced his skin and the world, already devoid of light, plunged into a different kind of darkness that had nothing to do with flicked light switches and unpaid electricity bills.

 

Yuuri rolled his eyes and kept walking, as if Mila wasn’t there.

“Nice to see you too,” she said, falling into step next to him.

He remained silent. Victor gave Mila a quiet “hello” and kept his eyes fixed on Yuuri.

“Yuuri, are you _really_ still upset over what happened?”

“You mean “Yuuri, are you still upset that I manipulated you and Victor into a situation where you’d fall in love with each other just because I figured it would give me a hold over you?” Hmm.” He paused dramatically, as if seriously considering those words. “Yes. Yes, I believe I am. Does that answer your question?”

He spun around on his heel, dragging Victor after him.

“What do you want, Yuuri?” Mila called after him.

Yuuri stopped, turned around and marched back, still dragging Victor along for the ride. “What do _you_ want?” he demanded, eyes narrowed.

She hesitated and he mentally dared her to lie. _Just say one word about caring about me and I swear to god I’ll kill you right here and right now and I don’t give a damn what happens next._

“I want you on my side,” she said at last. “What do _you_ want?”

Yuuri considered his answer. “To marry Victor,” he said finally and stormed off before she could continue the conversation any longer.

“I came in through a passage in the side of the hill,” she said, answering the question he didn’t ask. “It’s a damn labyrinth in here.” She talked on, falling into step beside him as if everything was sorted out now.

Yuuri said nothing.

They went on. Mila tried to draw Victor out into a conversation, but he barely answered her, sticking to one word.

Yuuri felt a satisfied smile spread over his face.

Mila got the hint after a while and said nothing more.

Yuuri caught Victor’s eye and saw the look on his face. He wanted to be home right now, lying ni his bed, his head between the thighs of the six-time world champion, not here in this stupid labyrinth where either of them could drop dead any moment.

And then his world went dark. Usually this is an expression meaning that a person died or lost consciousness. Sometimes a dark world means the kind of world Yuuri lived in before he met Victor. But here it was quite literal: someone flipped the light switch, or cut a wire and there was no light to see by any more.

He pulled Victor close.

“I don’t regret anything,” Victor whispered.

 

Guang Hong and Leo had grown up together. Both boys were orphans from the bad part of town. And the city they’d grown up in had some _really_ bad parts. When they reached their teens, both were filled with a sudden inspiration to become the best gunmen the underworld ever knew and both grew up to become figure skaters their countries were proud of.

They’d lost track of the number of times they’d saved each other’s lives.

That was why when Guang Hong was distracted by something in a side passage and ran Leo didn’t hesitate to follow him. He didn’t stare after Yuuri and wonder if it was the right thing to do. The question didn’t even cross his mind.

That was why, when they were captured, they were captured together.

 

No one likes battles in the dark. Not the people participating in them, nor those trying to watch them. What joy is there in staring at a patch of black and hearing grunts and cries of pain? And how can anyone be sure of hitting the right person in the dark when their fiancé is right there next to them and might get hurt as well?

Someone grabbed Yuuri’s arms and tied him up as if they were doing it in broad daylight.

_Let me guess: he has actual ninjas in his ninja castle. Of course he does! Why didn’t I think of that?_

“Remind me never to fight in the dark again, Snowflake,” he said. “It’s not fun at all. Especially not against ninjas.”

Someone’s hand went over his mouth.

He could’ve bitten their fingers off right there and then, but where would that leave him? With bloodied fingers in his mouth and still no idea where Victor was. So he came quietly.

_Well, here we are: time to round us all up and give the big speech, I suppose._ He rolled his eyes. _If I’d known this would turn out to be so predictable, I would’ve prepared better. Where are my earplugs when I need them?_

Exhibit A: the ice tiger of Russia chained up to a post, but convinced that either Otabek or Yuuri would save him in a couple of minutes, or, in the worst case scenario, an hour.

Exhibit B: Otabek, being his usual Otabek said. That was all there was too it.

Exhibit C: Guang Hong and Leo side by side, exchanging panicked looks and frantically whispering, “I don’t have any of my guns!” to each other.

Exhibit D: Mila with a knowing smile on her face, acting as if this is all part of some grand plan. Which is definitely _her_ grand plan and not someone else’s.

Exhibit E: Phichit wondering how he can blackmail his way out of his current situation. He’ll think of something eventually.

Exhibit F: Victor Nikiforov, the living legend, probably an actual angel sent from heaven, worrying his dear heart about someone getting hurt and not being able to skate ever again. Or, quite possibly, thinking something dirty about Yuuri. It could go either way at this point.

And finally exhibit G: Yuuri Katsuki. Yawning and leaning against his pillar as if getting ready for a nap.

“So here we all are, united at last. Isn’t that nice?” a voice rang out. The sound bounced off the walls, making it hard to determine its source. “I’m so happy you could make it, Yuuri Katsuki. I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time. After all,” a small figure stepped out of the shadows, “I _am_ your biggest fan.”

Everyone stopped struggling with their chains to share a look and a thought. _No, you’re not. Victor is._

Minami Kenjiro held up a gun. “Now which of you should I kill first?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I write all of that for the sake of such a terrible joke? Maybe...
> 
> I got an amazing moodboard from ladyofthefl0wers on Tumblr you all have to go see it and send her lots of love!  
> [It's right here](https://shemakesmeforget.tumblr.com/post/167249009168/bad-apple-by-witharthurkirkland-fic-rec).
> 
> Also, seeing as my Burlesque AU (Comes Love) is almost done, and this fic is nearing the end as well, I decided to organize a little vote to decide which fic I should write next (because I can’t decide on my own). You can read the post [ here](http://witharthurkirkland.tumblr.com/post/167287543573/vote-for-the-next-fic) to see what the choices are and then you can vote anonymously [ here](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSdgSo3QzSDVK--OpDQ78yuE8E3BDi9p4AeV9y1nhYZYWUIQAQ/viewform?c=0&w=1).


	56. Starting Today I will be your Coach!

“Does it really matter?” Yuuri asked, not even giving Minami a chance to enjoy a dramatic pause after his question. “I’m not pleading for ten extra seconds of my life.”

“Shut up. You’re dying last.”

“I doubt it,” Yuuri replied, as if it was a casual conversation between two old friends who’d run into each other in the street and not someone chained up while the second person waved a gun around. “Unless something wipes out all of humanity and misses me, I really doubt I’m dying last.” _Besides, if you’re a fan, like you claim to be, you won’t kill me first. Damn! I have to protect Victor! But how the hell do I do that when I’m stuck here?_

Minami then indulged in the traditional pastime of all unsuccessful villains in movies: monologuing.

It would’ve made things easier for Yuuri, if he hadn’t been chained up without a convenient filing knife. _And how would a filing knife help me, anyway?_ he thought. _Even Minami isn’t stupid enough to monologue for a whole week! He doesn’t have the attention for it, anyway._

Minami was saying something about justice at last, or maybe it was a speech about ice cold drinks, Yuuri wasn’t really paying attention.

“Let’s see what my choices are…” Minami said as he walked amongst them. “You’ve really messed this one up, haven’t you, Mila? Should I let you live so you can dwell on it? If I kill everyone here, I bet your own people will turn against you.” He shook his head.

“Phichit, the blackmailer? But I don’t really feel threatened by you. If you try to blackmail me…” he shrugged and kept going.

“The ex-cop and the kitten of Russia.” He stopped in front of Otabek and Yuri, snorted, shook his head and kept going.

“I’m not even going to say anything about you two,” he waved his arm dismissively at Leo and Guang Hong.

“So that leaves us with you, 6-time world champion. Congratulations! Another first place for you.” He raised the gun and pointed it at Victor.

There was a pause as Yuuri thought desperately.

“Oh _God_ , how I hate you!” Minami exclaimed, lowering the gun. “What can be more annoying that someone who wins all the time? How boring!” He looked at Yuuri. “This is the first time when your good taste let you down, Yuuri.”

Yuuri wondered if he could get free by breaking his arms. _Hell, if I needed to break every bone in my body just to get out of this and save him, I would._ He swore under his breath. “So… what? You live in a house – ah, no, my bad – a _castle_ full of ninjas and booby traps? I can see why you’d never have any guests over. Did anyone ever tell you that maybe you should get a proper interior decorator?”

“You –” Minami tried to interject.

“Do you have a hidden dungeon where you laugh evilly when your minions bring you the results of their hard work?”

“Shut up,” Minami said through gritted teeth.

“Or do you have a room all covered with TV screens showing what different people are doing at the moment?” He was really warming up to his subject now. “And then you stand in front of all of them and make a grand speech as you sip a glass of champagne – no, my bad – orange juice.”

Minami walked up to him. “I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work. It’s no use, trust me. You aren’t breaking out of this one. I will kill your fiancé, the rest of this silly gang and then you.”

“Why? Are you that desperate for attention? Or is killing me last somehow meant to make me like you more?” His eyes flashed. “I don’t like you. I will never like you, no matter what you do. Just accept it and move on.”

“It’s revenge, Yuuri. All these years I followed you. I dedicated my skating performances to you and _never once_ did you pay any attention to me! All you ever did was insult me, and ignore me, and forget who I was. And then goody-two-shoes comes along and you fall in love with him! Why?”

“So you’re jealous.” _Look at me, dammit! Keep looking at me and don’t you dare turn away, you moron! Don’t you dare go back there!_

“I’m not! Yuuri Katsuki is supposed to be a stone-cold killer. He’s supposed to be cool, and calm, and sarcastic! He’s not supposed to _fall in love_!” He spun around and aimed at Victor. Yuuri’s heart dropped. “It’s all your fault! You ruined him! You ruined the best skater that ever lived!”

_If we get out of this,_ Yuuri suddenly thought, _I swear I’ll take up pair skating with you, Snowflake. Just whatever you do, don’t provoke him._ He tried to communicate this thought with a look.

Victor smiled.

“What the hell are you grinning about, you bastard?”

“He’s just remembering what we did last night,” Yuuri cut in, his heart hammering from fear. The threats on his life never frightened him, but when Victor was in danger it was another story altogether. He’d never been so terrified in his life, not even when he was a hair’s breadth from death. The fear was pushing him on, trying to kick his brain into action, trying to find a way out that would keep Victor safe.

This wasn’t the sort of thing Yuuri did, but, ah hell, he was willing to do anything to keep Minami’s attention fixed on him. “You know what I prefer, Snowflake?” he asked and then went on, not bothering to wait for an answer. “I prefer it when you’ve got your hands on my –”

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed and went on exclaiming while Yuuri talked so that the end result, from the point of view of anyone who wasn’t Yuuri, was something like:

“– and then you – Yuuri! – with your – Yuuri! – You get all embarrassed and your face gets red like a tomato. And so I decide to mess with you so I – Yuuri! – your – Yuuri! – And your face is even redder, but you have that big stupid grin on your face and I know you’re having as much fun with it as I am.”

It was probably the first time Yuuri’s name had been used to sensor anything. Had he been somewhere else, he would’ve made a comment about swearing. But he went on like mad, unable to stop, hoping it will buy him time. _Time? What good is time if I can’t get out of these stupid chains?_

“And when you decide to use your mouth to –”

“Yuuri!” eight voices exclaimed in unison.

_Well done! You almost sound like a choir._

“But when I’ve got your ass and –”

A shot rang out and Minami fell.

“I _really_ don’t want to hear about your sex life,” a voice said.

_And I really don’t want to talk about it_ , Yuuri thought. _I was just stalling for time and for some reason it worked. I’m sure if Chris were here, he would’ve insisted I finish._ He did his best to suppress that thought and focus on whatever new threat had presented itself this man.

This time there was more than one newcomer. They were joined by a young woman with two men by her side.

“It’s the Crispino gang!” Leo exclaimed.

_You sound like you want their autographs. Then again, it’s you, so I’m not surprised._

Sara Crispino smiled, the gun raised in her hand. “Look what I found: the Russian thorn chained up and entirely at my mercy!”

Yuuri saw – really, actually _saw with his own two eyes_ – a bead of sweat trickle down the side of Mila’s face.

“What are you doing here?” Mila asked. Was her voice shaking, or was it just Yuuri’s imagination? _Wishful thinking,_ his brain supplied.

“Well, I figured that if I rescue you, the Russian thorn will owe me _one big favour_.” The smile on Sara’s face got even wider. Yuuri wondered how that was possible.

“What do you want?”

“Your network in exchange for your life,” Sara answered, sounding extremely pleased with herself.

“50%,” Mila said.

Sara laughed. “I have you chained up (as well as anyone who might even think about helping you). There’s a gun in my hand and two gunmen behind me and _you’re negotiating_?”

“60%,” Mila offered.

Sara stepped up to her. “100%.”

“Why don’t you just kill me?”

“Why would I do that? If I kill a general, her army crumbles to dust, but if the general surrenders, then her army is mine.” She slid the tip of her gun over Mila’s cheek. “What do you say?”

And then Yuuri noticed the way they were looking at each other. _You’re kidding, right?_

“50%,” Phichit piped up. “It’s the best deal you’ll get.”

“Stay out of this!” Sara and Mila snapped at him together, not even bothering to look away from each other.

Mila looked like someone who was doing a lot of thinking really fast. “How is this different from my business offer?”

With a laugh that sounded too innocent to belong to the member of one of the most notorious gangs Sara put her gun away. “It isn’t.”

“Then I accept,” Mila answered. “I’m all yours.”

Sara leaned forward and caught her mouth in a kiss.

_So that’s what all the tears were about,_ Yuuri thought. _Well, aren’t we all so glad you sorted it out?_ He rolled his eyes.

“What the _hell_ is going on?” Yuri asked in the tone of someone about to throw up.

“We just witnessed the leaders of two of the most dangerous gangs get engaged,” Otabek translated.

“We should have a double wedding!” Victor exclaimed with the kind of enthusiasm only he could have at a time like this.

_Oh great, that sounds wonderful. Will we be in chains throughout it too?_ He had an odd thought and threw a look at Victor. “You planning on letting us out any time soon?” he demanded. “Or do I have time for a nap?”

Sara broke the kiss and gave them the honour of her attention at last. “My deal is only for Mila. Why should I let any of you out?”

“You’re kidding, right?” Yuuri said.

Everyone protested at the same time, shouting curses and making all kinds of promises. The only person who didn’t say anything was Victor. Yuuri stopped talking and watched Victor curiously.

Eventually everyone ran out of words and paused to hear what Sara’s reply would be.

And then Victor spoke up, “Can you let us out, please?”

_Yeah, like_ that _will work. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: you’re too innocent for this world, Snowflake._

“Sure!” Sara said with a smile.

“What? Just like that?” Yuuri asked, taken aback.

“Why not?” she challenged. “I like Victor. He helped me when I broke up with Mila.”

_When was this?_ Yuuri wondered.

“And I wouldn’t have come, if he hadn’t told me where you were going,” Sara went on.

Yuuri shot Victor a surprised look.

Victor smiled. “Didn’t you say that I could give people relationship advice?”

“When did I say that?” _And even if I did, I was probably sarcastic at the time._

That was when Yuuri noticed that they were all watching Victor. When had Victor, in their busy schedule full of making out and competitions, found the time to talk to one of the most dangerous people in the underworld and, what was worse, give her relationship advice?

“Sara asked me for help,” Victor admitted. “She wanted to know how Yuuri and I are so happy together.”

_‘Happy together’ isn’t how I would’ve described it, but, sure, let’s use that._

“So I told her.”

_And how exactly did you do that?_

There was a long silence after those words, waiting to be filled in. A quick look told Yuuri that even the kid was listening with interest. What the hell do you say to a heartbroken gangster when they break up with their deadly girlfriend they weren’t supposed to be in love with in the first place?

Victor smiled widely. “It’s a secret, of course.”

_Oh good. I can’t wait to find out._

Emil Nekola and Michele Crispino weren’t wasting their time listening with their mouths open. To Yuuri’s great surprise, and relief, they walked from person to person, setting them free.

Yuuri rubbed his wrists as Victor rushed over to him. “You’re not upset I didn’t tell you, are you, Yuuri?”

He thought about this. Was he jealous that Victor had secretly made a deadly friend on the side and given them relationship advice so they could show up just in time and save their lives? With the amount of secrets Yuuri still had stashed away somewhere in the back of his mind, what could he say? What could he say when they’d come out alive and well? Alive and with barely a scratch.

Alive and ready to get married.

“No.” He wrapped his arm around Victor and pulled him close. “Not if you kiss me right now.”

He wasn’t jealous. Maybe it was because he knew they were about to get married, or maybe it was because he knew that Sara was so infatuated with Mila that being jealous of her secret friendship with Victor was stupid, or maybe there was another reason.

He thought about this.

No, there was no other reason.

“I always knew we would be saved by the power of love,” Victor whispered into his ear. It was exactly the kind of thing he would whisper.

“I’m pretty sure that we were saved by the power of a gun,” Yuuri replied, “but if it makes you happy, Snowflake, you can call it whatever you like.”

“Can we get married now?” Victor asked.

“I doubt anywhere is opened right now, but in the morning –”

Victor laughed. “I think I can wait for a few more days.”

“Oh.” Yuuri made a sad face, as if he’d actually expected they would elope on the spot.

“B-but if you want to…”

Yuuri laughed. “Let’s go home.”

Everyone else was already wandering off in little groups of two or three.

And then a voice rang out, making them all turn around.

“Have any of you seen where Minami went?” Sara asked.

Yuuri pulled Victor close, going into protective mode right away. “You mean he got up and walked away _after you shot him_? Or is this some kind of stupid prank? How did you lose him, anyway?”

“He’s just… gone,” she said simply.

“Oops,” Mila added.

They found a trail of blood on the floor and a mad scramble followed during which everyone ran after it, all eager to find out where it led.

It didn’t take long to catch up with the person carrying Minami. There was something familiar in that silhouette and Yuuri wondered where he’d seen that person before.

They stopped and everyone surrounded them. With the exception of Sara and her two gunmen everyone else was weaponless.

“Do it,” the mystery person said. “I don’t have anything to lose.” She stared at Yuuri defiantly and he recognized Minami’s coach.

Sara held her gun out to Victor, but Yuuri snatched it out of her hand. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Don’t,” Victor said quietly. “She won’t hurt us.”

Minami’s coach laughed. “How can I? With so many strong people around me?”

Yuuri felt Victor’s hand on his arm. He could shoot this woman and then what? His enemy was dead and that was the important thing. They could get some peace at last.

Until he pissed someone else off.

He stared down at the kid in the woman’s arms. His body was cold and unmoving, his eyes closed, never to open again. He wondered how his coach was going to cover this one up. Sara’s shot had gone right through his heart. You couldn’t write that off as an accident.

He thought of his own cover-ups. Maybe she could.

He raised his eyes and met those of Victor. Everyone else was staring at the kid thoughtfully as well, but they didn’t matter. Yuuri only had eyes for Victor now, trying to interpret what was going through his mind.

There were tears in his eyes.

_He was going to kill us,_ Yuuri wanted to say, but didn’t. He was sure that in that moment it wouldn’t make a difference to Victor.

Instead he put his hand on Victor’s back, and Victor’s head dropped onto his shoulder.

What could they do after that? Stand around and catch up on old times? Exchange relationship tips? Victor had already done that, as it turned out.

Yuuri waited for Victor to finish crying before sticking his hands in his pockets and walking in the general direction of his bike with Victor by his side. The six-time champion clung on to his arm.

Yuuri didn’t say anything. He didn’t even say anything when they climbed onto the bike and headed back home.

He hadn’t expected to come out alive. He was so certain that they wouldn’t get out of this that he hadn’t even booked their return tickets.

It took most of the journey to shake that feeling off. Maybe they _had_ died in there. Maybe they’d died and this was the afterlife. And it looked just like the real life. The regular life.

He shrugged. Whatever. This was getting too metaphysical for him. If there was someone in their way, he would shoot them. Otherwise, there was always the second option…

His parents’ house appeared right ahead of them and his brain changed gear.

“Look at that,” Yuuri said, stopping the bike and pulling off his helmet, “we even managed to get here before your bedtime.” He chuckled. “Any requests, Snowflake?”

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered. Hearing the fluster in his voice, Yuuri waited for something good. “Let’s go to the hot springs together.”

He chuckled and caught Victor’s hands with his own, trapping them against his chest. “Whatever you like, Snowflake.”

Remembering where they were, he released Victor and got off the bike.

There was a happy smile on Victor’s face. Yuuri pulled a hand through his hair. “You know people aren’t allowed to have sex in the hot springs, but when have I ever let a rule stop me, hmm?”

“Ah!” Victor tried to get off the bike, but hearing Yuuri’s words made him lose his balance and tumble to the side. It also didn’t help that he was looking at Yuuri as he was trying to get off the bike.

Yuuri caught him with a smirk. “Steady there, tiger. I know you’re eager to have some fun with me, but don’t hurt yourself.”

Victor raised his eyes and looked into Yuuri’s face as his cheeks burned redder. “Yuuri! I…” He gripped Yuuri’s hands.

“Well, let’s not stand around here all night. I’m getting impatient just thinking about it.”

 

Yuuri reclined in the water with his eyes closed. Victor hesitated, unable to gather enough courage to join him. He’d already undressed and folded his and Yuuri’s clothes neatly. Now he merely stood there, fidgeting nervously.

Yuuri opened one eye. “You’re allowed to come here, you know.”

But he might as well have said nothing. No, he _should’ve_ said nothing, because he’d only made things worse. Victor’s knees trembled under him. He stood there, completely naked and too flustered to move.

How could he move when he’d just seen Yuuri undress calmly before him and step into the water like it was nothing to think about?

“Not that I’m not enjoying the view,” Yuuri went on, opening his other eye. “Do you need help coming here?”

“N-no…” Still he was stuck in his spot.

“Well, if you’re just going to stand there…” Yuuri got up, flung out his arm and said, “Starting today I will be your coach!”

Victor’s face was almost purple at that. Yuuri looked like he was waiting for more, but Victor was still unable to do anything else.

“You’re right: this _is_ ridiculous,” Yuuri said, putting his hands on his hips. “Who would ever think this is a good idea?”

Yuuri was standing there naked. So naked. Victor merely stared, as if seeing him for the first time. There was water sliding down his chest and dripping off his body. Oh god.

He watched the a smile tug at the corners of Yuuri’s mouth and then one eye closed in a playful wink and Victor’s heart ran.

Victor rushed forward, stumbling right before the water and falling straight into Yuuri’s waiting arms. He gripped Yuuri, burying his face in his chest.

Yuuri pulled a hand through Victor’s hair. “Snowflake…” he whispered.

For a while the world was still and then Yuuri added, “I booked us tickets to fly home tomorrow.”

“Home…” Victor whispered and looked up into Yuuri’s face.

“And then we’ll just have to face the inevitable and get married.”

Victor closed his eyes as Yuuri’s finger traced out his lips.

“Yes…” he whispered.

“I’m pretty sure you should be saying “I do”.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right after I quote the Incredibles in this fic the teaser for The Incredibles 2 comes out. Coincidence? I think not!
> 
> And now we finally get to the wedding!! *gif of Jack Sparrow going “A wedding! I love weddings!”*


	57. Like What You See, Groom?

There was a week left until the wedding when Chris brought it up. He’d flown to St. Petersburg to help with the wedding preparations, as well as to prepare for the challenge of being a good best man. Victor consulted him for a second opinion on everything, since Yuuri, after staring at Victor in silence for a solid minute, said, “I honestly don’t care about the colour of the wallpaper, or whatever, just pick what you like. That’s not important.”

Not important? Victor couldn’t believe his ears when he heard it. And so he asked Chris to give him a hand. Yuuri volunteered Phichit for extra support.

And so, with a week left, Chris said it: “What you need is a stag party.”

“But I don’t want one,” Victor protested.

The three of them sat in a café and Victor spent the whole time unable to focus on anything, his mind full of Yuuri. It didn’t make it any easier that Yuuri wasn’t there, usually it did, but not this time.

Yuuri was off on the other side of town, probably shooting someone’s head off. Victor wished he could be with him instead of here. Maybe he’d been right and they didn’t need to bother with so many preparations.

It was an unusually hot day and, after running around the city making arrangements and buying things, they needed to stop to catch their breath and cool down. Victor was starting to feel like his brain was melting.

“You’re getting one and you’re going to like it,” Chris insisted, swirling the ice cubes around in his drink before taking another sip.

For some reason Phichit agreed with this mad idea. Maybe they were both mad, or maybe that was how weddings were done these days, but still Victor didn’t want one.

After all the heat and preparations he wanted nothing more than to lie at Yuuri’s side with his head resting on Yuuri’s shoulder and Yuuri’s hands on his back.

He wondered what Yuuri would say about this. _There’s barely any time left, maybe if I keep Chris busy he won’t get a chance to organize one._

“In fact, you’re getting one tonight!” Chris announced, as if he’d read Victor’s thoughts.

 

Yuuri didn’t like it and he said so, not bothering to spare Chris’s feelings and using every curse he knew.

They told Yuuri as soon as they got back to their apartment. The four of them sat at a table, eating the ice cream Victor brought out for them.

He suspected that Victor had no idea what a stag party was, but he was all too aware what they entailed. Thanks to his efforts, there was more than one groom who never made it to husband.

Seeing how little effect his words had on Chris, he went through all of his curses again just to strengthen his argument.

Chris waited patiently for him to finish, his arms crossed over his chest. For some reason he wasn’t intimidated by Yuuri at all. Was he convinced that Yuuri wouldn’t harm his fiancé’s best man?

Yuuri then wondered if he _would_ harm Victor’s best man. A smack around the ears wouldn’t cause him too much harm. Probably. He scowled so hard it was almost painful.

“Are you jealous?” Chris asked. “Jealous Victor will change his mind about marrying you?”

Victor’s arms went around Yuuri and he protested that nothing in the world would make him change his mind about marrying Yuuri. That even if God Himself came down from the heavens and told him not to do it, he would still marry Yuuri.

It was starting to get mildly embarrassing, but – then again – Yuuri had to admit that he would do the same (with the small caveat that he would first say something along the lines of “I don’t believe in you” and then demonstrating with gestures what he thought the new arrival could do next).

Chris teased and coaxed, but still Victor refused to go.

Yuuri was supposed to go to his own stag party, as organized by Phichit, which, knowing him, would be the most boring party ever and would probably include – Yuuri resisted the urge to roll his eyes – female strippers.

He watched Chris and Victor argue back and forth.

“Fine,” Chris said. “I’ll just call them and cancel everything, should I?”

Victor went silent. Yuuri watched him agonize over his answer. He could see the pain written all over his face.

“Do you want _me_ to call them?” Yuuri asked.

“I’ll go,” Victor said.

“What?” Yuuri spun around so fast it was almost a skating element. “You don’t have to go. Let him go enjoy his own stag party that he organized.” _It’s probably aimed at his tastes, anyway._

Victor gave a sad sigh. “He put it together for me. I need to go. And you’ll go with Phichit.”

“I’ll do no such thing!”

Victor smiled at Yuuri. “I’ll see you later, Yuuri.”

Yuuri opened his mouth to snap in response, saw the smile on Victor’s face and felt the blood start to creep up to his face. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll just go sleep through the whole thing. Make it easier to stay up the rest of the night.”

Now it was Victor’s turn to blush. Then he caught Yuuri by the shoulders and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Have a good time!”

Yuuri watched Victor and Chris leave, resisting the urge to remind the best man that if anything bad happened to Victor the world would never see Switzerland’s pride out on the ice ever again. Would probably never see him anywhere except for in the news, come to think of it.

What was the point of stag parties anyway? He retreated to a corner to sulk while Phichit stood over him, trying to persuade him that it was time for them to go as well. What was the point of getting dead drunk and watching strippers before getting married?

_If you want to see a stripper – go see a stripper. Weddings are irrelevant._

No, no matter how he turned it around in his head, it still made no sense to him.

And then he wondered how Victor would react when he realized just what he’d agreed to. How much money was he willing to give just to see the expression on his face?

 

Victor let Chris drag him away without another word. Regret hit him as soon as he got into the taxi. No, that was wrong, regret hit him as soon as he’d agreed. As soon as he’d seen the look on Yuuri’s face when he’d agreed. And then he understood exactly how Yuuri felt.

He wanted another evening with Yuuri. He didn’t want a stag party, which, according to Chris would have alcohol and strippers.

Victor cursed all alcohol and every stripper in existence during the ride that dragged on forever. He cursed them as he entered the bar Chris had reserved for the party and wondered how long he had to stay before he could slip out and go home. Then he wondered if he could also avoid drinking.

“Hey! It’s the groom!” the people all shouted, surrounding him from all sides.

Several of them slapped Victor on the back.

They pulled him to the barman who offered him a drink. There was no turning it down now. He took it and then stared at the glass as if he didn’t know what it was for.

“Drink! Drink! Drink!” they all chanted.

He looked at Chris. There was a phone in his hand and Victor knew that he couldn’t get out of this. There was just no way he’d be able to slip out without anyone noticing.

He gave them all his brightest, press-worthy smile and downed the drinks.

They cheered as if he’d done something impressive.

The barman poured him another drink.

 _Oh well,_ he thought, _maybe this will turn out to be enjoyable after all. If only Yuuri were here with me._

He did his best to keep smiling as he reached for the second drink.

How many drinks would they give him? As many as it took him to get drunk? But that could be a lot. It took more than two glasses to really have an effect on Victor Nikiforov.

He downed the second drink and, sure enough, there was still no effect on him.

Maybe if they all got drunk, he could slip out unnoticed, he thought.

And then loud music began to play and everyone chanted “cake” for some reason, clapping along and stomping their feet.

“I like this tradition,” Chris told him, “even if you guys don’t have it. Do you have it?”

Victor stared at him in confusion. “Have what?”

They brought out a cake that was so big it took up an entire table and rolled it up to Victor.

“I-I’m not supposed to eat the whole thing, am I?” he asked in terror, leaning against the bar. He wasn’t even remotely drunk enough for this. In fact, he wasn’t sure he’d ever been drunk enough to do this.

“I’m not sure _eating_ will be a good idea,” Chris said with a chuckle.

And then someone jumped out of the cake and landed on the floor in front of Victor.

The people went quiet and even the music stopped.

Yuuri stood barefoot and almost naked in front of Victor. “Who’s the lucky man?”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, buried deep under the hills of thoughts of “holy crap, he looks so hot right now!” was the suspicion that this part of the stag party didn’t go as planned.

In the dead silence that followed Yuuri licked icing off the back of his hand and then, not giving Victor time to recover from this image, leaned forward and licked Victor’s cheek. There was that smirk again.

“I like you,” Yuuri said. “Call your fiancé and tell him the wedding is off. I’m marrying you in his place.” He reclined against the table. “I think I’ll take you home.”

Once again he was drunk out of his mind.

Victor got his first proper look at Yuuri while his fiancé gave him an up and down in the most suggestive way Victor had ever seen. The leather shorts were back, but this time they weren’t accompanied by a shirt or a vest and Victor was prepared to swear that they were shorter now too. He didn’t remember being able to see quite so much of Yuuri’s skin when he wore them last time and, surely, that was the kind of detail he would’ve remembered. Yuuri’s hands rested against the top of his shorts, pulling them down just a little bit.

Yuuri noticed him looking and smirked. “Like what you see, groom?” He sat down on the table and tilted his head to the side, giving Victor a sly look. His hands rested on the table as he raised one leg and put it on Victor’s thigh. “I’m not good at stripping, groom. Do you think you can help me?”

Victor took Yuuri’s foot in both of his hands and ran his thumbs over it.

Yuuri closed his eyes. “I don’t know if I should, groom. What will your husband think?”

Victor’s hands slid around Yuuri’s foot.

Yuuri licked his hands and ran them over his hair to flatten it down, opening his eyes and fixing them on Victor’s. He licked his hands again and slid them over his chest, as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Victor’s hands slid up to Yuuri’s thighs as his heart beat faster.

“Groom, give me a kiss.” Yuuri was so smashed out of his mind that he giggled and added, “Actually, I think I’ll give you one myself. Drop your pants.”

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed.

“Alright, then you give me one.”

Yuuri spread his legs and Victor stood up. He forgot where they were. He forgot that there were people watching. He even forgot that Chris wasn’t far away and probably recording everything.

Much later Victor learned that they weren’t supposed to meet until the stag party was over, that Phichit spent at least two hours looking for Yuuri, thinking he’d been kidnapped by more people who wanted Yuuri dead, that…

Ah hell, as Yuuri said, who cared about any of that when Yuuri was right in front of him?

As they kissed Yuuri wrapped his arms and legs around Victor and pulled him in closer.

 _I should get drunk too,_ Victor thought as Yuuri got more enthusiastic.

When Yuuri finally let him go, Victor stepped back and called Chris over. “Where is my drink?” he asked.

“Listen,” Chris interrupted, “I don’t know how to tell you, but –”

“I’m supposed to give you a lap dance next,” Yuuri cut in, “so grab a chair and sit yourself down, groom.”

Victor didn’t so much sit down as drop down. “Y-Yuuri!” he exclaimed.

He had no idea what a “lap dance” was, but the look on Yuuri’s face gave him a pretty good guess as to what it might mean.

Yuuri slipped onto his lap. “And can we have some music?” He demanded, turning away.

_Oh my God! There’s cake on his back!_

 Victor wasn’t prepared for what happened during the rest of that evening. Granted, eventually he managed to down enough alcohol to not be so embarrassed by everything that happened later, but until he hit that level of drunkenness what happened was a kind of…

There was just no word for it.

His fiancé, Yuuri Katsuki, was drunk out of his wits, sitting on his lap, doing what might have been a dance, or what might have been a drunken sway, and singing. It was the dirtiest song Victor had ever heard.

Victor had no idea if it was possible for human beings to melt, but he was well on his way to proving that they could no matter what science had to say on the subject.

And then a lot of alcohol happened.

And soon Victor was licking bits of cake off of Yuuri’s back and making jokes about eating. It was all recorded for posterity by Chris (and incidentally included a lot of people’s posterities) and would’ve made good blackmailing material, except that several days later, when stone cold sober, Yuuri managed to get his hands on the only copy of the recording and put it somewhere safe for a re-watch with Victor much, much later.

The recording also included a slow dance that would’ve been romantic if both grooms hadn’t been wildly drunk and very nearly naked by that point.

Victor put his head on Yuuri’s shoulder and looked into his eyes. “Hello, handsome,” he sang out.

Yuuri’s eyes were almost glowing in the semi-darkness. Around them people were dancing to a slow tune. He felt Yuuri’s hand slide up his back and settle somewhere around his shoulder blades.

His head was stuffed with warm cotton and the only thought he had that wasn’t about Yuuri was how stupid it was that he still had his pants on.

He was so happy. There was no way in the world he could be happier than he’d been in that moment. There was Yuuri, smiling back at him, making his heart beat even faster.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“Let’s go home,” Yuuri whispered back.

 

Chris didn’t see how they’d vanished, but one minute he was recording the happy couple, the next someone behind him was saying something to him and so he turned to answer their question, and then he looked back and…

They were gone.

And with that the stag party was officially over.

He considered calling Phichit, but called instead to see if he could find out what happened to the stripper Yuuri had replaced.

 

It was light outside, even though it was somewhere around midnight. The sun barely set and would be up again soon.

They stood on a bridge in a place that was probably picturesque, but they were both in no state to appreciate their surroundings. Only each other.

Victor’s fingers were in Yuuri’s hair as they kissed. Yuuri’s head was spinning. He couldn’t really remember how they’d ended up here and where exactly “here” was. Somewhere in St. Petersburg. That was good enough, right?

“I want to take you home tonight, pretty boy,” Victor said, slurring his words and giggling.

 _God_ , he was drunk! And _he_ was drunk. They were both drunk. Who was this doing the thinking?

Victor’s hands slid down from Yuuri’s head and over his back. Maybe he was aiming for his waist, maybe he wasn’t, but he’d ended up with his hands on Yuuri’s buttocks.

“I have you now,” Victor whispered and rubbed his nose against Yuuri’s.

Yuuri’s heart was doing some kind of singing and dancing routine in his chest as it pumped more blood towards his face.

 _You need to go home_ , the voice of reason suggested.

“Shush,” Yuuri said, catching Victor’s lips with his own.

“I can give you a lift there,” someone said and Yuuri realized that the previous suggestion had been said by the same person.

He recognized that voice!

Yuuri released Victor and turned around.

Mila stood a couple of steps away, her hands on the railing, as if she’d been innocently admiring the view.

“What do you want?” he asked. If she started to weave circles around him again, he was really in trouble. He could barely think a clear sentence at a time, let alone hold a coherent conversation.

“Nothing,” she said with a smile. “Just thought I’d drive you boys home before the police caught you outside in that state.” She nodded at their state.

Yuuri looked down. “So what?”

“So nothing,” she countered and laughed. “Car?”

“Mila, what do you think of the pretty boy I found?” Victor asked.

“I think you should take him home,” she answered. “I’ll give you a lift, if you want.”

Victor hugged Yuuri tightly. “You’re so nice, Mila!”

“What do you say to that, Yuuri?” she asked.

There was something significant in her question. He could feel it. And his answer was more than just agreeing or disagreeing to a lift. If only he could figure out what it was!

“Yes,” he said and knew she would see it as him agreeing to whatever she was hinting at.

And he let her take them home. And he agreed to something else, but he didn’t remember what it was.

 

Somehow they got to their building and up the stairs and even unlocked the door. And even managed to walk in and close the door behind them. Amazing.

“Let me show you the way to my bedroom, pretty boy,” Victor offered.

“You’re too drunk,” Yuuri said.

Victor caught him against the wall in a kiss. “I’m not…” he insisted between kisses. “I’m not drunk.” He pulled away. “Take me.” He hiccupped and giggled again. And then he stepped forward and rubbed his whole body against Yuuri’s.

All of a sudden breathing was very hard. He did his best to focus on breathing and talking. He tried not to think about how tightly Victor was pressed against him. “Not today, Victor. You need to sober up.” God damn it all to hell! Now he knew _exactly_ how Victor felt right before fainting. Now he knew _why_ Victor fainted.

“I-I am drunk! I mean: sober! I’m sober!” He dropped to his knees next to Yuuri, undid his zipper and pulled the shorts down carefully, his hands sliding over Yuuri’s skin. Like last time, Yuuri wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“Really, Snowflake…”

Victor slid his hands up Yuuri’s thighs. “You said I could grab you wherever I wanted,” he reminded Yuuri, pressing his cheek against Yuuri’s leg as his hands continued to slide further up.

 _God, Snowflake!_ He felt his blood rush to his face. “Victor! Wh-what the hell?”

“Would you prefer it if I used my mouth?”

Yuuri was trying to hold on to the wall. He could feel his knees weaken under him. _What the hell?_ “Victor…” It was getting hard to breathe. “Victor, please –”

Victor pulled away and fell onto his backside, laughing. “I knew… I knew I could get you to beg for mercy!”

Bewildered didn’t even begin to describe Yuuri’s mental state at that moment. “Oh, Snowflake, you are _so_ getting it!” He picked Victor up and carried him over his shoulder.

Victor giggled.

Yuuri took him into their bedroom and dropped the living legend onto their bed. He’d meant to put him down gently, but that proved harder than he’d expected and, so, Victor slipped out of his hands.

He watched Victor sit up and struggle with his zipper, unable to catch it at first and then unable to pull it off in the right direction.

Finally he tossed his pants and underwear aside and beckoned Yuuri to him with his finger.

Through the alcohol haze he managed to climb onto the bed next to Victor and then take his face in his hands. “I have a rule about this, you know,” he said as Victor pushed him down onto his back.

“About what?”

“Th-this…” he was starting to slur his words, damn it! “About sex while drunk.”

Victor giggled and buried his face in Yuuri’s stomach, rubbing his nose against it. “You’re so hot!” he sang out. “Hot, hot, hot!”

“Yeah, I feel really warm right now…” he muttered. “Listen, I…”

“I have a really-ly-ly good idea,” Victor sang out.

 

Yuuri awoke in what was probably the morning. His head hurt and the whole world was spinning. And then he realized something that made his head spin even more: Victor’s face was buried in his backside, the nose smack there in between his cheeks.

_Holy crap, Snowflake!_

And, for the first time in his life, he woke up with a hangover _and_ a fuzzy memory of the night before.

What had they done? No, wrong question. What had they _not_ done?

He swore under his breath. _Well, if there is a quiz later, then I might just pass._

Victor moved. “Y-Yuuri…” he mumbled.

 _Easy, Snowflake. Wait until you open your eyes and realize where exactly your head is right now. I suppose it could be worse._ He tried to imagine what could be worse from Victor’s perspective and could only come up with waking up alone on the couch. _Wait, did he…_

“Ah!” Victor moved away. Probably leapt away.

“Snowflake…” Yuuri moaned, trying to see if he could get more out of him, “why did you stop?”

“Y-Yuuri!”

“Yes?” Yuuri turned onto his back and smirked at Victor. His fiancé was on the other edge of the bed, as far away from Yuuri as staying on the bed allowed.

Victor’s eyes trailed across Yuuri’s body. “U-um…” He was almost purple. “…um…”

Yuuri, knowing all too well what Victor was looking at, turned back over onto his stomach.

“D-did I do that?” Victor squeaked. Yuuri had never actually heard his voice break like that before. It was really quite funny.

“Yes, you did.” _This must be what everyone else feels like after I wake up with a hangover. What a relief to remember something for once!_

“But… but…” Victor touched Yuuri’s lower back with his fingertips. “Why did I write my name all over your body?”

“You tell me.”

“Ugh… my head!”

Yuuri turned around and reached up for Victor. “Let me guess, you don’t remember anything about last night.”

“I do! I just… can’t remember why I did it… And it’s not just my name. Oh God!” He blushed deeply and put a hand over his mouth.

“Did you write something dirty too? Oh good, I was hoping you would do that.” Yuuri moved to sit up, but Victor held him down.

“P-please let me wash it off!”

“Why? I think I’ll keep this on for now. Can you take a picture for me?”

“Yuuri! It’s really… inappropriate!” Victor exclaimed. He was really embarrassed of this. And Yuuri found it much more entertaining to see Victor embarrassed by something he himself had done than any of his – that is, Yuuri’s – actions.

“Oh good, I was hoping you’d write something really bad.”

Victor put his hands over his face. “And it’s all in Russian!”

“What does it say?” He raised an eyebrow, but Victor still had his hands over his face and, so, completely missed it.

“I-I can’t say it!”

“Oh come on! Tell me.”

Yuuri spent a good half hour trying to coax the answer out of Victor and still couldn’t get anything. He slid his hands up Victor’s arms and whispered dangerously, “I guess I have no choice but to take a picture and post it online and maybe someone –”

“I’ll tell you!” Victor interrupted hurriedly.

Yuuri settled down to wait, sliding his hands away from Victor’s arms and down to his thighs.

“Th-there is an arrow and…um “this is delicious” it says. Oh god, Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, blushing deeper.

Yuuri turned over. “And my back?”

“It says my name all over your… um… and “Victor’s…” um… and… oh god! I can’t say it!”

“Then take a picture and show me!”

He lay back down for the photo and smirked, but Victor focused only on the writing on Yuuri’s skin and missed the expression on Yuuri’s face a second time.

Once he finished, Yuuri turned over onto his stomach. “Can you add “A really good ride”?” he asked. “You don’t need to draw an arrow.”

“Yuuri!”

“Well, if you insist,” he teased, “you can add an arrow. I don’t mind.”

Victor didn’t argue this time. Instead he hunted around for the pen he’d used. Yuuri remained where he was, complaining that he was getting cold while Victor scrambled all around the bed before finally leaving the room to get another one.

That done he demonstrated the photos to Yuuri.

“I like it,” was his verdict.

“R-really? You’re not mad?”

“Why? This isn’t even that dirty. If you want to write something dirtier, go for it.”

Victor lowered his eyes, fidgeted and put the pen away. “I… I don’t know what else to write,” he admitted.

“An area to work on then, coach. Next time I expect something better.” He sat up and prepared to pull his clothes on. “But you know what I _really_ enjoyed last night?” he added, as if it was a mere afterthought.

Victor put his hands over his face.

“I see that you _do_ know.” Yuuri chuckled. “Do you think you can do that again?”

“Y-Yuuri!”

He wiggled closer to Victor. “Will you make me wait until the wedding night, Snowflake?” He wrapped his arms around his fiancé. “I want you to use your mouth again,” he whispered into Victor’s ear.

“Y-Yuuri!”

 

It wasn’t until they were sitting at breakfast that every detail of the previous night crystalized in Yuuri’s mind.

All his life he’d sneered at religion, but he was prepared to build a temple for whatever higher power had allowed him to keep his memories this time.

 

_“Yuuri!” Victor giggled and turned Yuuri over onto his stomach. “You have such a nice bum!” he sang out, giving it a gentle squeeze. “They wanted me to eat cake,” he said. It was obvious to Yuuri from the very start that Victor had missed the point of the cake entirely. “But I want to eat Yuuri!”_

_Yuuri gasped. Damn, it felt good! No wonder Victor kept begging for more and almost passed out each time. He was trembling and Victor was only using his lips._

Here it comes, _he thought._ This is where I surrender completely. It’s one battle I can’t win.

_“Viten’ka…” he moaned and buried his face in the pillow after hearing how broken his own voice sounded._

_Cold, heartless Yuuri Katsuki was melting at the touch of a very drunk and very innocent – oh, the hell with it! – angel._

_Victor pulled away. “Can I have seconds?” he asked as Yuuri tried to remember how to use his mouth and his lungs._

_“S-seconds… yeah… God, Snowflake! You have quite the appetite!”_

_“I’m really hungry.”_

_“Yeah, I can feel that.”_ Whatever happens, I can’t talk about his tongue right now! If he uses that, I’m done for sure!

_Victor was running his fingers over Yuuri as if this was one shape he’d found really fascinating._

_“Are you trying to sculpt me over there?”_

_“Yuuri,” Victor said and Yuuri could imagine the dreamy expression on his face as he said it, “you’re like a work of art!”_

_“Does that mean you’re going to stand and stare at me and wonder what I mean?” Yuuri joked._

_Victor rubbed his face against Yuuri’s buttocks. “I just love you so much!”_

 

“Oh my gosh, Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, meeting Yuuri’s eye and realizing what he was thinking about. “I’m so sorry!”

“I don’t see why you need to apologize.” Yuuri reclined in his chair. “Turns out you can teach even me a thing or two. Maybe next time I should get you more alcohol and see what you can _really_ do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The higher power is me, Yuuri. You’re welcome.)
> 
> For anyone who was curious, the alternative title to this chapter is A Lot of Alcohol Happens.
> 
> I invite you to watch [this music video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GuZzuQvv7uc) and imagine Yuuri as the singer and Victor as the person in the car (it has absolutely nothing to do with this chapter, but I think it fits this fic).
> 
> Edit: I just realized that this fic now has over 150k words. Holy crap! Wow!!


	58. The First Slice is Yours

Victor insisted. Yuuri didn’t argue. And thus the wedding took place in St. Petersburg.

It seemed to Yuuri that everybody and their aunt had a hand in the planning for the wedding and he wondered if leaving it all to Victor had been a good idea after all. If he’d bothered to take care of the preparations himself, this sort of thing would never have happened. Now everyone was pitching in, as if their opinions were important, as if they were getting married too.

Aunt Liuda’s contribution was to insist in a tone of voice that wouldn’t take no for an answer that Yuuri spend the night before the wedding in her apartment, away from Victor.

It was traditional. Apparently. Or it had something to do with a superstition about seeing your spouse on the morning of the wedding. Yuuri wasn’t sure which: he hadn’t really paid attention.

He would’ve argued against it, but Victor, to his surprise, decided that it was a good idea.

Oh well. Yuuri made a couple of phone calls and arranged for protection for Victor.

 

The day Yuuri Katsuki ceased to exist started off innocently enough without any hints of the upcoming monumental event. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Probably. Yuuri hadn’t actually bothered to check.

 

_Yuuri walked through their house, trying to find where Victor had gone. He kept calling his name, but got no response. The rooms were all empty and didn’t want to end, for some reason._

_He was starting to feel like a rat in a maze when he found the back door and stepped out into the little patch of grass that was more a joke than a patch of land that someone could do something with._

_A single clothesline stretched across it and there, sure enough, was Victor in nothing but a pair of black underwear, holding another pair of underwear up to join the long line of black underwear hanging to dry in the sunshine._

_He turned at the sound of Yuuri’s footsteps and smiled._

_Yuuri was suddenly aware of the fact that he was dreaming. The whole scene was so odd that even dream logic was having a hard time keeping up. He didn’t ask why they were suddenly living in a house with a little patch of land in the back. He didn’t ask why Victor was outside in only his underwear. He didn’t even ask why Victor was doing the laundry. No, he had a more important question on his mind._

_“Why am I wearing your black underwear?”_

He was faintly aware of the fact that he was lying in a bed, but before he could do anything he tumbled back into sleep…

_Victor giggled and stepped up to Yuuri. His face was red. He wasn’t just out here doing the laundry while barely dressed. He was also drunk out of his mind._

 

The dream faded and Yuuri protested silently that he needed it to come back.

“Time to wake up!”

Yuuri groaned and rolled over. He’d lain half awake for the past few minutes, reaching out with his hands, trying to grab Victor to pull him closer. Or maybe he was trying to grab a hold of the dream.

His eyes opened slowly, as if dreading what they would see. The sight that greeted them wasn’t Victor’s beautiful face, or even the back of his head, or (as it happened several times) various other parts of his body from his chest downwards. It was Aunt Liuda standing in the doorway.

“Wash up. Breakfast is ready.”

It took a lot of effort not to snap at her. Instead, he groaned and checked what time it was.

9 am.

He had to meet Victor at 11 for that stupid photoshoot. They’d decided to have the wedding photoshoot that morning and Yuuri was starting to wonder if that had been a good idea.

Victor was probably still sleeping, lucky him.

Yuuri had woken up to the sight of that sleeping face the day before and now…

He got up with another groan and headed for the bathroom, taking his phone with him.

 

_“And do you, Victor Nikiforov, take Yuuri Katsuki to be your lawfully wedded husband?”_

_Victor stood at the altar in a big white dress. He turned to smile at Yuuri, who was in his usual leather jacket and smirk._

_Yuuri raised an eyebrow. “Well?”_

The phone rang next to Victor’s ear and he reached for it, his mind still at the altar while his body was on the bed in his apartment.

“I do…” he murmured instead of a greeting.

“Am I late for the wedding?”

“And with this ring…” Victor turned over and stared at the ceiling.

“Are you getting married without me?”

“W-what?”

“And a good morning to you too, Snowflake.” Yuuri laughed.

Victor’s face spread in a dreamy smile. “Yuuri!”

“Lucky guess.” He chuckled. “Now what was I going to ask? Wasn’t there something important happening today? Oh yes! You up for getting married today, Snowflake?”

“Hmmm…” Victor hummed, still not fully awake.

“You’re still sleeping, aren’t you?”

“I love you, Yuuri,” Victor whispered sleepily. “And today’s the day.” The whole world was warm and wonderful and he wanted to give it one big hug, just put his arms all around it.

“Did you think of me last night, Snowflake?”

“U-um…” The dream was slowly evaporating into a different one.

“Because,” Yuuri whispered dangerously, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Victor blushed and buried his head under the pillow.

“And I really missed you last night.”

“Y-Yuuri!”

“Are you naked right now?”

“I-I… um… Y-yes…”

“Of course you are,” Yuuri teased. “Should I tell you what to expect tonight?”

“U-um…”

Yuuri chuckled. “A _lot_. Everything you could possibly want and more.”

“Yuuri…” he croaked in embarrassment under the pillow.

“And I think I know just where to start,” he whispered in a voice that made Victor’s heart skip a beat and then rush through the next dozen beats.

“Yuuri…” he said again.

“Don’t make me wait,” Yuuri said and hung up.

Victor stared at his phone, blushed and brought it to his lips. “I love you, Yuuri,” he said, even though he knew that his words wouldn’t be heard.

 

The official wedding photoshoot (the one that someone later posted all over the Internet) passed outside in the streets, in front of various tourist attractions and anywhere Victor picked (including their ice rink, surprising absolutely no one). Most photos had Yuuri regarding Victor with a smirk on his face while Victor beamed, glowing with joy.

The photo they both later agreed was the best showed Yuuri, his hand held out, gripping the ends of Victor’s fingers as Victor stared into his eyes. It looked like the beginning of an old-fashioned dance. They both wore matching white tuxedoes. Their gold rings gleamed in the light of the sun, matching the gleam of the gold spire of the Peter and Paul fortress behind them.

Once the camera snapped the photo Victor sat down on the railings behind him. Yuuri caught his face and they kissed. That was one moment the photographer didn’t capture. They never found out why.

Yuuri felt Victor slide his fingers through his hair and lowered his own hands to Victor’s knees, but they didn’t stay there for very long and worked their way up his thighs.

Victor pulled away. “Y-Yuuri, we’re… we’re not done with the photos,” he whispered, putting a hand over Yuuri’s mouth.

“I don’t know about you, Snowflake, but I’m done.” He moved away with a soft chuckle.

The photographer, no doubt used to all kinds of newlyweds, was studying his phone with a lot of interest.

Victor was gorgeous, impossible to resist. Not only was he all in white with little gold details here and there, but there was a flower crown on his head consisting of nothing but white flowers. At the front a large white rose tried to grab all of the attention for itself. It reminded Yuuri of the one sappy gesture he’d planned for that day.

He stepped away and walked back to the car that had brought them there, opened the trunk and pulled out the wedding bouquet.

Victor was at his side, blushing as if Yuuri had presented him with something embarrassing.

Yuuri held it out and watched the joy spread from Victor’s face to the rest of his body. It was really quite something.

“Thank you!” he exclaimed, taking the flowers.

“Today you can have anything you want,” Yuuri said, closing the trunk and leading Victor away from the car.

“Can you take us home on your bike after the wedding?”

Yuuri chuckled. “You bet.”

 

The actual ceremony wasn’t held in a church, but in a government office where they signed their names away. They said their vows, eyes fixed on each other. Through some miracle, Yuuri managed to keep a straight face while he spoke.

Phichit and Chris were there to record everything. Mila and Sara were there too, presumably to learn how people got married so that they wouldn’t mess anything up when it was their turn.

Victor held up his hand and Yuuri put the ring – no, _returned_ the ring – onto his finger. He watched Victor do the same with his ring and pulled him close.

Behind him he could hear everyone else clap as if they’d done something incredible.

 _Arguably, you_ have _done something incredible, Snowflake, you’ve pulled a proposal out of me._

Victor held on to him and refused to let go, his fingers lost somewhere in Yuuri’s hair.

_What did the lady say, again? She’s on a tight schedule and there will be another pair of newlyweds here any minute? Well, they can wait! The whole damn world can wait!_

 

They gathered outside (that was another of Victor’s ideas) where they’d arranged for someone to set up several tables and set them with food. The grooms greeted all of the guests together and several of them remarked how surprising it was that Yuuri managed to wear his tux like he did his leather jacket, which confused Yuuri to no end.

Victor looked at Yuuri and thought he knew exactly what they meant. His boyfriend – no, fiancé – no, husband – had gelled his hair back. There was that smirk and he crossed his arms over his chest from time to time the way he always did. So he was in a well-tailored white suit that should’ve cancelled out the bad boy image, but for some reason it didn’t.

“You’ll have to be patient, Snowflake,” Yuuri whispered.

Victor lowered his eyes. Yuuri could always tell what was on his mind.

They’d invited everyone – or pretty much everyone – they knew.

Yuuri’s family got there first and surrounded Aunt Liuda as soon as she got there, giving her what Yuuri called a taste of their “aggressive hospitality”. Yuri’s grandfather was pulled into their circle as soon as he arrived too.

From what Victor could hear, the conversation between Nikolai and Liuda started out as a competition in who knew the most about figure skating out of the two of them and ended in a boasting match.

“My Yuuri could skate better than yours at his age,” Auntie said and Victor caught Yuuri’s eye.

How did she know that?

Yuuri looked really amused at this. There was that sparkle in his eyes again. _My Yuuri_ , he mouthed to Victor with an arched eyebrow, as if waiting to see what Victor would say to that.

Victor gave a helpless shrug and Yuuri headed over to them his arms reaching out for Auntie. “Did you miss me?” he asked her in Russian.

She laughed when he embraced her and then caught him in one of her bone-crunching hugs in response. She kissed both of his cheeks hard, making him wince. “Nephew,” she said, patting him on the back, “behave.”

Yuuri straightened up. “Never.” He beckoned Victor over with a swing of his head.

Victor joined them and got a hug from his aunt too. “You watch that husband of yours,” she said into his ear.

 _I don’t think I can take my eye off him if I wanted to,_ he thought as he nodded automatically.

They greeted the rest of the guests after that. Yuuri had a word for everyone who came and in most cases it was a sarcastic one. The guests responded with jokes and, in several cases, with references to their presents to the newlyweds. They’d arrived that morning and Victor had piled them up in the guest room. He looked forward to spending a day going through all of them with Yuuri.

He was completely at ease and happy. Victor saw it in Yuuri’s smile and his family picked up on this too, whispering about it when they took turns to hug Victor.

Hiroko merely whispered a thank you into his ear.

“Well, that’s everyone,” Yuuri said, offered his elbow to Victor with a satisfied smile and led the way to the tables, which were loaded with food. Victor hadn’t held back when it came to catering and Yuuri could see that now.

When the food ran out Phichit and Chris had a little competition over who would go first. Phichit won after dropping an ominous sentence. He got up with a grin and cleared his throat.

“Hello everyone!” He gave a cheery wave like a person greeting his friend at the rink and not at all like a best man about to give a speech to nearly a hundred people.

Beside him Yuuri made some sort of noise that Victor couldn’t identify. He squeezed his hand and did his best to give Phichit his full attention. It was hard: he was, after all, sitting next to Yuuri.

 

Yuuri half-listened to the speeches as he took in Victor’s devious sitting scheme (although, to be fair to him, it was probably an innocent sitting scheme that wasn’t guilty of anything, not at all, no sir) at the tables in front of them. Aunt Liuda sat next to Grandfather Nikolai (there was a fight he wanted to see), while Yakov was next to Lilia. He caught the smiles those two exchanged and looked away. Victor, the sappy fool, who thought he knew what was best for who.

The kid sat between his grandfather and Otabek. He didn’t seem to mind that Aunt Liuda was there.

He turned his attention back to Phichit who was using this chance to tell a story he thought was embarrassing. But not too embarrassing, that cost extra. Phichit, who knew a business opportunity when he saw one, would never tell an actual embarrassing story, when he could charge someone for _not_ telling it. There was no knowing _what_ he’d expected to get out of Yuuri’s stag party, especially since Yuuri never made it to the bar the blackmailer had reserved for him, but he’d seen the stripper Chris had hired for Victor (seen and left him tied up in an alley).

He resisted the urge to shake his head.

Jealousy. What was it good for? Apart from being a source of income, if you were Phichit.

Was Phichit still talking? Yes, yes he was. He was telling everyone that story of that one time in the opium den. Yuuri nearly panicked. Nearly.

And then he realized that, out of deference to the fact that the grooms’ families were present, he managed to skip all of the important details. Like the number of people Yuuri killed, or how he tortured a man. Somehow he turned the tedious and life-threatening job into a silly comedy for six year-olds.

And then it got worse. He turned to Victor with a smile. “I’ve been Yuuri’s best friend for as long as I remember,” which wasn’t true in two different ways, “and he’s always been obsessed with you, Victor. And today he gets to live his dream!”

_Is this me they’re still talking about? What sort of joke is this? Everyone knows it’s not true!_

There was excited laughter and applause at this as they swallowed up this lie. Victor squeezed his hand tighter. Yuuri suppressed the urge to hit Phichit.

He caught the blackmailer’s eye, but had no moment of great epiphany, no understanding of what the hell was going on in that mad head of his.

Victor shifted closer and Yuuri realized that everyone expected him to go along with whatever Phichit had said.

 _This is us suddenly pretending to be respectable skaters,_ he thought as he caught Victor’s mouth with his own. _I wonder who is actually falling for this._

Chris stood up with his story of how Victor pined away after Yuuri.

 _When you put it like that, it sounds like we’re blind, stupid idiots too obsessed with what was going on in our heads to pay attention to anyone else. Which is probably right,_ he thought.

Yuuri leaned towards Victor’s ear. “Why don’t we skip out on this boring party and have some _real_ fun?”

Victor blushed.

“I don’t really know the newlyweds, but I’d rather get to know you instead.”

“Yuuri, stop it,” Victor whispered back.

Chris stopped talking and looked at them. “Am I interrupting –”

But before he could say anything else it was cake time.

They brought it out on a cart and everyone went quiet, stood up and tried to get a better view of it, craning their necks over everyone else. Several people pulled their phones out to take pictures.

When Yuuri saw the wedding cake he couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

“Really? Snowflake-shaped?” He elbowed Victor and then leaned close and whispered, “I hadn’t expected to get a chance to eat Snowflake this early.” He waited for Victor to blush before pressing his lips against his husband’s.

The guests all cheered. Some of them shouted, “Горько!” the usual cry of guests at a Russian wedding, even if this time it came too late and they’d already kissed.

When Yuuri released Victor he saw someone standing with a knife next to him. He fought down the urge to lunge for the man, but couldn’t control the sudden tension in his shoulders.

“W-we need to cut… cut the first slice of the cake,” Victor stammered out.

Yuuri took the knife and Victor placed a hand over his. His other hand rested on Yuuri’s shoulder.

“Ready when you are,” Yuuri whispered.

He tried to focus on cutting the cake and not on how warm Victor’s hand felt over his, or how their rings touched, or how wonderfully close they were.

That done, Yuuri lifted the knife to his face and, with a dangerous smile on his lips, licked the icing off the knife.

Victor blushed, leaned towards Yuuri and licked his side of the knife.

Yuuri lowered the knife out of their way and caught Victor’s mouth with his own. It was the sweetest kiss they’d ever had and it wasn’t just the icing on the cake.

“The first slice is yours,” Yuuri said, pulling away from the kiss.

The second slice was Yuuri’s and then he let someone else deal with the cake. They returned to their seats and moved their chairs as close together as they could.

Victor held up a spoonful and said something, but thunder boomed loudly overhead, drowning out his voice.

“I think –” A large drop fell on Yuuri’s nose.

“Ah!” Victor exclaimed.

And it poured, drenching them right to the bone.

The rain fell, making them all run inside, covering their heads, searching frantically for umbrellas. The women were trying to save their dresses, the men – their suits.

Victor sighed. “It’s ruined,” he whispered, not even bothering to get up from his chair, “all ruined.”

Yuuri laughed. “C’mere.” He stood up and pulled Victor up by the arm towards him.

The rain fell harder. He held Victor’s face with both hands as he felt around in his mouth with his tongue. He closed his eyes. There was water running down Victor’s face, but it wasn’t tears, not even tears of joy. Not yet, anyway. But his thumbs were on Victor’s cheeks, brushing the water off anyway.

Victor gripped him tighter and then let go and pulled away. “Yuuri! We should go inside!”

“I have a better idea,” Yuuri said, raising the tablecloth. He let Victor go first before slipping in after him and continuing their interrupted kiss.

Rain battered on the top of the table. They were both drenched, but ridiculously happy.

They had to go and find the other guests and change into something dry. They had to keep the wedding going indoors (in the building that had been behind them all along and where they would’ve held the wedding if someone had bothered to remember that rain existed), but all of that wasn’t important.

But, then, what was important?

That after a good kiss they finally pulled apart and joined everyone else like they had to? That once the dancing started they were both out on the dancefloor for every single dance, not missing one, not taking a single break? Or that when the guests left they had the last dance all to themselves, all alone with no one there to see Yuuri put his head on Victor’s shoulder as the music played on his phone?

“I was expecting a rain of bullets, not a rain of… you know: actual rain,” Yuuri admitted quietly.

“Me too,” Victor admitted in a whisper.

Yuuri raised his head. “You’ve really learned to take all the danger in your stride. Should I be worried?”

“The danger is part of loving you,” Victor said, the warm smile on his face completely at odds with their conversation.

“You mean if it stops being dangerous, you’ll stop loving me?”

He listened to Victor protest at that and laughed. “Let’s go home,” he said. “As always, I owe you a ride.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame this chapter on me listening to Guns N Roses all the time. Yes, this chapter is a reference to the [November Rain music video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8SbUC-UaAxE) (just ignore the last part), just like Mila and Sara’s meeting was a reference to the [This I Love music video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XmV1fL7yl_c).  
> As soon as I post the next chapter the rating on the whole fic will change to explicit (just to be on the safe side) and I’ll mention in the tags that it’s only explicit because of chapter 59. If you are uncomfortable with explicit scenes, you don’t need to read the next chapter. It’s their wedding night. You can probably guess what happens. On the other hand, you might be curious if I succeeded in living up (or living down?) to the sarcastic sex tag. There’s really only one way to find out. This will only be mildly explicit, so there won’t be any bodily fluids described, we’ll just tiptoe across the line between mature and explicit, sort of mess around a bit and then tiptoe back.
> 
> Edit: There is now art of cake-cutting [here](http://witharthurkirkland.tumblr.com/post/175691228588/a-beautiful-commission-made-by-minatu-for-me).


	59. Marry me Again

Yuuri expected many things to happen on their wedding night. However, sitting in the kitchen and drinking tea with Victor at 4 in the morning wasn’t on the list, not even on the list of strange and naïve things he’d expected from Victor.

But Victor said he was thirsty and next thing Yuuri knew there was a kettle boiling and tea cups on the table and even a little plate of chocolates between them. He hadn’t even had time for a sarcastic remark.

Yuuri watched without comment.

His husband – what a word! – had been on top of the world as they headed home. He clung on to Yuuri in that way that Yuuri always translated as “go faster, Yuuri. I’m getting impatient.”

And now he sat with a teacup in his hand, his fingers tapping lightly against it.

 _Well,_ Yuuri thought, _this night won’t be different to any of the others. Especially,_ and here he had to resist the urge to scowl just in case Victor misunderstood this reaction, _if someone tries to kill us again._

Victor set his cup down and smiled in his usual way, but Yuuri could see that something was bothering him yet again.

“Let me guess,” Yuuri said, “you’re nervous about something. Now, what can it be this time? Is it the old ‘I don’t deserve you’ tune? Or did you realize that marrying a stone-cold killer was a bad idea? It’s a bit late now, but –”

Victor lowered his head. “That’s not it. I don’t – I never will – regret marrying you. Even,” he looked up, “even if we’re killed tomorrow.”

“Then what is it?” He dismissed the last part of what Victor said to think about later.

“Um… I-is there something special I should do today?”

“Meaning?”

“We’re married now, so …um… I was wondering if I’m … I’m supposed to do something different?”

Yuuri got up. “Well, you might want to start with giving your husband more than a cup of tea.” All this time and he still couldn’t guess what was on Victor’s mind!

“I can cook something, if you’re hungry.” That was a typical Victor response.

Yuuri chuckled. “Try again, Snowflake.”

“Oh! Ah!” He blushed and raised the cup to his mouth. “I… yes, of course…”

 _Never change, Snowflake._ He stepped up to Victor. “Come on,” he whispered, gently taking the cup out of Victor’s hands.

“I need to wash the cups…” Victor began.

“Forget them. They can wait until later. I can’t.”

Judging by Victor’s expression, he thought those last words had been in another language.

Any other day Yuuri would’ve shrugged and walked towards the bedroom, content to wait until Victor was ready to come to him. But not that day.

He thought of their kiss under the table when Victor had pulled him down closer and Yuuri had tottered on the edge of doing something stupid. And while it rained like mad all around them and he kissed Victor until he thought his lips would go numb ( _Is that possible? Who cares?_ ) he was only dimly aware of the fact that eventually they’d be discovered and barely held back.

Now Victor sat in his chair, looking as clueless and as innocent as ever.

Yuuri climbed onto his lap. “I’m not going to wait,” he repeated, several dangerous inches away from Victor’s mouth.

“A-alright…” Victor whispered.

 _Here I am,_ Yuuri thought as his lips snatched at Victor’s, _sitting in the living legend’s lap as he hands himself over to me yet again._ He shifted forward and – oh the hell with it! – and pushed himself against Victor.

He wondered if the chair was the best spot, but that thought was dismissed as soon as it arrived. _I’ll buy you a new damn chair, if we break this one._

“I want you,” Yuuri breathed out, pulling back a little, “so we’ve done this before. So what? I still want you. I’ll always want you.” He took in the blush on Victor’s face and chuckled. “You ever wondered why I decided to marry you?” he whispered hotly, pushing against Victor again.

“Why?” Victor’s eyes were still closed after the kiss. The blush spread to his ears this time. Yuuri resisted the urge to comment.

“So that everyone knows without a single doubt that you’re mine.” _How have I missed this before? You’re really beautiful when your face gets that red!_

“I’m yours, Yuuri,” Victor breathed out.

He could feel himself getting more excited. Had Victor finally figured out what really got Yuuri Katsuki – no, no, now Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov – going?

“I just…” Yuuri whispered, pushing against Victor again and feeling the man get as excited as he was. “I just realized that I’ve never had sex with Victor Katsuki-Nikiforov before.”

Victor laughed, catching on quickly this time. “And I’ve never had sex with Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov before.”

It was the dumbest joke in existence and Yuuri was prepared to bet his right arm that every single newly married couple since the dawn of time had made it.

But, God! He was feeling really hard now. Who the hell cared about getting points for originality at a time like this?

He was starting to wonder if they would make it to the bedroom at all.

_Way to go, Yuuri, very clever, very, very clever._

“I think… I think we should go,” Victor whispered.

Yuuri wrenched himself away with great effort and managed to stand up. His head was spinning.

Right. Now what? Oh yes.

He held his hands out to Victor and pulled him up.

 _The bedroom,_ a part of his brain supplied, _is that way._ He almost walked into a wall instead.

Victor held on to him.

_Look at us: two idiots stupidly in love. God, they can probably film dumb comedies about us!_

Through some miracle they made it to the bedroom without hitting anything and then Yuuri closed the door and caught Victor against it.

In some ways it was like watching a rerun of your favourite show: you have every line memorized, but you’re still laughing at the same jokes and you still get excited as your favourite bits start.

They’d been together long enough to know exactly what the other person liked. Yuuri had an excellent map of Country Victor in his head now with notes and little addendums more detailed than any explorer could ever hope for. Instead of trees denoting forests or lines showing lakes, Yuuri knew how Victor liked to be touched where and, presumably, in Victor’s head was an equivalent map for Yuuri.

_No, that’s just…_

He slid his hands down over Victor’s chest and watched the man’s reaction.

“Yuuri…”

“Hmm?”

“Are you teasing me again?”

“Just trying to decide where to start, Snowflake. You always give me so many options. I guess that makes me really lucky.”

“I-I was worried you were going to tell me that anticipation is half the fun,” Victor stammered out.

“I _hate_ the anticipation,” Yuuri snapped.

 _Let’s see…_ He leaned forward and caught Victor’s ear with his lips. He’d heard of people using their teeth, but it just seemed wrong with Victor for some reason.

“Yuuri…” Victor moaned and Yuuri was prepared to swear he was sliding downwards.

_There go his knees._

Yuuri moved on to the skin behind Victor’s ear.

“Yurochka…” Victor whispered, running his hands up Yuuri’s back.

“Snowflake,” he murmured into his ear and went on. His hands were in Victor’s hair.

Victor was shuddering at his touch. “Yuuri… Yuuri, I love you…” he moaned.

Yuuri pushed against him. _God, he’s really feeling it now! Hell,_ I’m _really feeling it now!_

One thing Yuuri had learned from watching Victor react to different things he’d tried over time was that it wasn’t necessary to be naked to get any kind of reaction out of Victor. There were the leather clothes, for instance, and not even suggestive ones. There was the smirk, or the way Yuuri ran his hand through his hair. And sometimes, it was useful to remember that he had a tongue.

“Yuuri…” Victor moaned again, almost dropping, “Yuuri, please…”

 _If I drag this out any longer, it will just be cruel, but, oh God! I…_ He didn’t know what to think after that.

 _Buttons,_ a part of his brain that was still working supplied.

 _Right, right, yes._ He reached with his hands. “Snowflake,” he gasped, “my beautiful, gorgeous Snowflake.”

“Yes…” Victor whispered back. Not very clever, but it was good enough for Yuuri.

“I don’t think you’ll need your jacket or bowtie for the rest of the night. What do you think?” Yuuri asked and smirked at Victor’s embarrassed nod.

There went the jacket and then the bowtie. Victor still looked ready to fall over. Yuuri stuck one leg in between Victor’s and wondered if that was meant to help keep him up, or it there was another reason he’d done it.

“Yuuri…” Victor moaned.

“Bed, Snowflake, come on.” He took Victor by the arms and backed up.

“Oh, Yuuri…”

“Yes, yes, I’m almost –”

Victor pushed him down on the bed and climbed over him. “Yuuri!” There was that excitement again and he was off kissing every part of Yuuri’s face he could reach.

“Well, Snowflake,” Yuuri heard himself say, but it seemed far off, as if someone else was saying the words for him, “you want to start, or should I do the honours?”

Victor undressed him, rushing with the buttons and pulling Yuuri’s clothes off clumsily. Yuuri laughed, unable to stop himself and then dragged Victor down.

“Will you make your husband feel really good?” Yuuri whispered playfully. “Do you think you can do that for me?”

Victor’s hands were on his chest and then he leaned down.

_And now for one of the amazing things you can do with your mouth, Snowflake._

Yuuri moaned, closing his eyes. Victor had figured out not long ago that there were two specific spots on Yuuri’s chest, which were extra sensitive to the feel of his lips. Yuuri’s fingers worked their way into Victor’s hair at the back of his neck as Victor’s lips went from one nipple to the other.

“Yurochka,” Victor whispered.

_God, one day I really need to find the right words to tell you just what you do to me! Maybe I’ll hire a poet._

He let himself make any kind of noises in response. Let someone else figure out if it was moaning, groaning, or something else. What did it matter?

The more ecstatic he sounded, the more enthusiastic Victor got. Yuuri’s whole body reacted to each touch and he’d learned to let himself loose.

“Take…” he breathed out, licked his dry lips and gulped down a breath of air, “take your clothes off, Snowflake…”

He’d heard – a long time ago and in circumstances he’d rather not remember – that there were people who used items in the leather and rope demographic to get the right sort of reaction out of their partners. Chris had offered several such items to Yuuri and was told where he could stick them, if he repeated his offer ever again. Victor, for all his innocence, needed only his hands and his mouth to get Yuuri going.

Alright and other parts of his anatomy, Yuuri conceded mentally.

He felt hot and weak as Victor’s hands moved down to said other parts of his own anatomy. Yuuri spread his legs. He felt Victor’s breath on his cock in the brief minute or so as he hesitated (because he always did) before he felt Victor’s lips against it.

Victor’s fingers trailed over Yuuri’s hips.

Victor loved Yuuri as if he was something holy, as if his body was somehow sacred and no matter what Victor was doing at the moment, Yuuri could never find it in him to say something like “you can use your teeth,” or even “you can push harder”. And, Victor being the way he was, Yuuri found himself treating him the same way.

And, always, when he released Yuuri he had that smile on his face as if he’d just been given a treat.

“And what do you think of the taste of Yuuri Katsuki?” he’d tease Victor afterwards.

“Delicious…” Victor would whisper and blush (and, sometimes, he’d forget himself and lower his head in embarrassment, which always made Yuuri chuckle and tell him he was allowed seconds if he wanted them so badly).

And this time was no different.

Victor pulled away slowly, his hands resting on Yuuri’s hips and Yuuri felt the blush rise in his face. Then Victor bent down again and licked Yuuri’s tip, imitating what Yuuri had done before. Except when Victor did it he had a blush on his face and a pleased expression on his face, like someone who enjoyed what they were doing, but was extremely embarrassed about it. Yuuri was starting to give up on that conversation. If Victor wanted to keep being embarrassed about it, then he could go on doing it.

“Take your clothes off…” Yuuri whispered hoarsely. _Damn it! If you don’t, I swear I’ll be tearing them off!_

There was that tenderness in Victor’s eyes again. “Yuuri,” he whispered, apparently completely missing what Yuuri had said and making him wonder if he’d actually said the words aloud, “I promise to be the best husband I can be.”

 _Yes, I’m really glad to hear that, but right now I’m really not in the right mood to appreciate what you’re saying._ “Damn it, Snowflake!” he growled. “Do you want me to undress you myself?”

Victor lowered his eyes, “I… I want you to pull my clothes off…” he whispered and covered his face with his hands.

Yuuri chuckled. “I might just be able to manage that.” He turned them over so he could be on top.

 

Victor could feel Yuuri going hard through his own pants and blushed. Yuuri pulled Victor’s shirt apart, almost pulling the buttons off as he did so.

There was that anger and frustration again.

“God, Snowflake,” Yuuri muttered, moving down and off Victor, making him realize that it wasn’t just Yuuri who was getting really worked up.

He waited for Yuuri to unzip his pants, but Yuuri dropped his hand into them instead.

“Yuuri…”

“Sorry, Snowflake.” He took his hand away. “This is starting to turn into teasing, isn’t it?”

Victor gasped for air and then let out a relieved sigh once the zipper was undone. There was that dangerous smirk on his husband’s face. Yuuri’s eyes took him in, making his heart beat faster.

Then he was naked and shuddering, even though all Yuuri was doing was looking at him.

“Take me…” he pleaded. _I always want you to look at me that way and only me._ And, then remembering how Yuuri had a habit of asking where he should start, Victor offered his back to his husband. “C-can you use your mouth first?” he asked. He was blushing so deeply he was convinced his hair would start burning any minute.

Yuuri slid his hands over Victor’s back.

_I love you, Yuuri. I will do anything for you and I know you will do anything for me._

He was so lucky, he thought, so lucky to have Yuuri as his lover and now husband, Yuuri, who would do anything that would make him feel good, Yuuri who, seeing if anything was painful or uncomfortable would pull away, and apologize, and curse himself and swear to never do it again.

Yuuri’s lips were pressed against the skin between his cheeks. Victor breathed hard, waiting to feel Yuuri’s tongue.

Love was… Love was making the other person happy, no matter what it took, Victor thought, feeling Yuuri’s mouth open. Love was thinking of the other person to the point of forgetting themselves. But, as Victor had learned over the years, not everyone thought of it this way.

It was one of the many things he had in common with Yuuri, because no matter how much he teased Victor about it, he and Victor shared this point of view.

His mind went blank the moment Yuuri’s tongue touched his skin and then he was whimpering weakly.

“Now what?” Yuuri asked with a chuckle, as he pulled away from Victor.

It took him a while to gather his wits.

“Do…” he gasped for air, “do that again… please…”

Yuuri started at his thigh this time. Victor gripped the pillow tighter, feeling his husband’s tongue travel up (or what would have been up, if he had been standing) and then around and between his cheeks, stopping in one specific spot.

Victor drew in a sharp breath and then tried to concentrate on his breathing and not think too much about where Yuuri’s tongue was at the moment. His hair was messed up, his face was really red and sweat was pouring over his whole body as he fought for air. It was getting harder to do so every second.

He gulped down enough air to speak as he felt himself reach his limit. “Ride me,” he gasped out and felt Yuuri pull his tongue away.

Yuuri had looked after him all this time. He took the time to teach Victor what he needed to know and never once did he laugh at his ignorance.

“I love you,” Victor whispered as Yuuri worked him open with his mouth and fingers.

 

Yuuri licked a stripe between Victor’s cheeks, enjoying the desperate moan he got in response. He kissed at Victor’s entrance, teasing the rim with his tongue until he heard Victor gasp out, “Ride me”. He sounded close to breaking and Yuuri pulled away.

He let Victor catch his breath as he reached out for the bottle. Armed with its contents, he pushed in gently, using his fingers to slowly rock into Victor, stretch him and tease him open.

As Yuuri made good use of his hands, he thought back to the first time he’d taken Victor and all the odd new sensations that had followed. He had no words for how he’d felt. “Really good” didn’t even come close to describing it.

He’d held himself back, clung on to his self-control by his teeth, determined to take it slow, to not overwhelm Victor with too many sensations at once.

Still Victor had sounded on the verge of breaking.

Then he thought of their second time, on the evening of the same day, when he’d faced Victor and watched his body bend back as he gasped. He always watched Victor’s reactions, trying to keep the situation under control. And, well, if he was entirely honest with himself, to see what pushed the right buttons for Victor.

Oh maybe, someone thought he should’ve gone all out, pushed hard and watched Victor break metaphorically and literally. Maybe there were idiots who thought Victor would come back to him after that, asking for more and claiming that he was in love.

Maybe there were people who only understood love as an extension of hate and tortured their so-called loved ones, but the mere thought of Victor broken and hurt was enough to make Yuuri’s blood boil.

_I don’t want to hurt you. I want you to be happy._

In the here and now Victor moaned under him. Yuuri held him by the hips, determined to keep him in place as he pushed.

“Yurochka…” Victor gasped out, all emotions raw and laid out in the open. “Yurochka…” He must have really done it this time, because Victor was suddenly gasping in Russian. “Юрочка... Пожалуйста...” _Yurochka… Please…_

Yuuri pulled away and then leaned down to kiss the middle of Victor’s back.

“I love you…” they were sappy words, but it was the sort of thing people whispered this late in the night (or was it early in the morning?), presumably because it was that special time when no one would hear them, “…just the way you are.”

He waited for Victor to catch his breath before opening his mouth and asking they switch positions, but Victor beat him to it.

“Again…” he begged, “please do that again… just… just one more time….”

Yuuri ran his hands over Victor’s shoulder blades. “I’ve spoiled you, Snowflake. You know you’ll always get what you ask for.”

“Thank you,” Victor whispered. “I promise I’ll ride you after this.”

Yuuri leaned down to drop the next words into Victor’s ear. “You know me: I’m always up for a ride, especially if it breaks the speed limit.” There was a short pause and then Yuuri added, “To be fair, I’m not sure how you can break the speed limit in this case.”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

Yuuri laughed.

 

Victor felt Yuuri ride him, blushing as he clutched the pillow under him with both hands. “Yurochka…” he gasped. “Yur–” he was running out of air faster than he could inhale more with his mouth.

Yuuri’s fingers were on him, gripping him tightly, holding him in place and that grip alone would’ve been enough to make him blush.

_I love you._

He loved it when Yuuri was strong and daring. He loved that sensation of melting under Yuuri’s touch. His only wish was that he knew how to explain to Yuuri just how good it felt. If only he knew a word stronger than love! He’d spent an afternoon trying to find a better way to tell Yuuri about his feelings. His search had ended with Yuuri walking in on him surrounded by several stacks of books. Victor never found the right word, but poems seemed to be the next best thing.

Yuuri pulled away and Victor whispered the first few lines in between gasps for breath. “Я помню чудное мгновенье: передо мной явился ты...” _I remember that magical moment when you appeared in front of me…_

He felt Yuuri slide his thumb over his back and gave a soft gasp. His hands moved over Victor’s shoulder blades and he chuckled quietly. “Well this is a first. What did I do to deserve a poetry lesson in the middle of the night? Was it really that bad this time around?”

His hands slid up towards his neck and into his hair, parting it gently so that Yuuri could plant a kiss on the exposed skin.

“I don’t have any poetry to offer in exchange,” Yuuri said with his lips still touching Victor’s skin. He moved towards the skin behind Victor’s right ear.

His hands slid over Victor’s shoulders and around, making their way into the space between Victor’s chest and the bed.

For several seconds they just breathed together and said nothing.

Yuuri turned him over and they looked at each other and Victor knew they shared the same thought.

Something was different this time after all.

Yuuri leaned over him and Victor raised his hands to wrap his arms around his neck at the same time. They shared a chaste kiss, but it made Victor’s heart beat even faster in his chest.

“I love you,” he whispered, pressing his nose against Yuuri’s before he could pull away.

Yuuri’s hands slid over the bedsheets and under him, stopping only to grip Victor’s back.

“When you hold me like that,” Victor whispered, “I feel like I might melt in your hands.”

There was a smile on Yuuri’s face. “Do you think I can do something that will make you melt?”

“Yes. You can do anything, Yuuri.”

He chuckled and rested his forehead against Victor’s as he shifted his weight to sit down on top of him at somewhere around his waist.

Victor pulled his feet towards him, making his knees rise. He knew Yuuri would take it as a hint. He always did.

Yuuri raised Victor’s body. He started with his neck and worked his way downwards. Victor’s eyes closed as he felt Yuuri rub his nose against his neck, nuzzling him affectionately, whispering his name before kissing his skin hungrily.

 

Everything was so fascinating from his collarbone to the outline of Victor’s hips. Every single inch of skin. Every little mark.

 _Mine_ , Yuuri thought yet again.

He was starting to get carried away. He could hear it in Victor’s voice and he wondered if, once again, he’d crossed a line.

What would it be like if he didn’t have to hold back, he wondered. What would _he_ be like?

His lips were just below Victor’s belly button now, moving slowly downwards as his husband’s whole body shuddered.

He raised his head and worked his hands over Victor’s skin. He could always get Victor all worked up just by rubbing his hips with his fingers.

“Y-Yuuri…”

“I want to hear you moan in Russian again,” Yuuri admitted.

Why did it matter what language Victor used? And then he had an odd idea.

“For maximum confusion, I’ll respond in Japanese. How does that sound?” He slid his hands down onto the bedsheets, waiting for Victor’s answer.

Victor’s head reclined on the pillow. “Да…” he breathed weakly. _Yes._

Yuuri chuckled. “Or,” he went on, warming up to his subject, “I can teach you how to moan in Japanese and I’ll whisper to you in Russian. What do you say to that?”

“Marry me again,” Victor whispered.

Yuuri laughed. “Shouldn’t we have our honeymoon at least?”

There was a blush on Victor’s cheeks. To be fair, it had been there before, ever since that morning probably, but it wasn’t planning on going anywhere anytime soon. “H-honeymoon…” Victor whispered and put his hands over his face. Yuuri thought he heard the hint of tears in his voice.

“On second thought, I’ll leave the language lesson for another time.” _You’re not going to cry on my now, are you, Snowflake?_ He waited for Victor to take his hands off his face.

Victor sat up. He reached out and pulled his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. “I love you,” he said, “more than anything. And I’m all yours, so you can do anything you want.”

“You want to be careful with words like that,” he said with a dangerous glint in his eyes before leaning in close and catching him in another kiss. He lowered Victor down onto the pillow and whispered, “Or I might just take you up on that offer.”

He slid his hands over Victor’s thighs with a smile and moved so he could raise them. Then he stopped. “I just realized. We have to start over, Snowflake. It’s no good.”

“What? What do you mean?” Victor whispered, a mix of alarm and embarrassment in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Your aunt gave us bedsheets for our wedding.” Yuuri moved, as if he was pulling away, as if he was really about to get up and change the bedsheets they were using. “And we’re using our regular ones right now.” He gave a sad shake of his head. “All this doesn’t count. We’ll have to get up, change the sheets, put our clothes on and start from the beginning. You’ll have to put the teapot on and everything.” He saw the expression on Victor’s face and smiled.

He didn’t look outraged. That wasn’t an emotion Victor really knew. No, he looked whatever a three-year-old’s version of outraged was. It was the look a kid had when told that it was time to leave the playground and go home and eat their green vegetables, or whatever.

Yuuri waited for Victor to protest.

Victor gave a little sigh and opened his mouth. He was probably about to say “oh, alright”, but Yuuri interrupted him before he could.

“I was just kidding, Snowflake.” He raised Victor’s thighs to make room for his own legs as he shifted forward. “I don’t give a damn about the stupid bedsheets. I’m ready to have sex on the floor, if you asked me to.” He relished the look on Victor’s face at those words. He paused several centimeters away from Victor, as another thought suddenly occurred to him, “And if you want me up against the wall, I won’t say no to that,” he added with a dangerous smirk.

The expression on Victor’s face was even better at that and he promised himself to try it at least once. He imagined this expression when they switched around and Victor was on top of him. It was much better than the view he had at that moment: which was just a piece of the wall and a bit of the ceiling.

“Victor…” he whispered.

He’d wondered once, in a sort of abstract way, why was it that they always gasped out each other’s names during sex. Maybe it was because there wasn’t much else to say at that point. “More” was one option, he supposed, but then it just sort of got annoying and started to sound a little demanding. There was only so much pleading you could do. He’d whispered “yes” several times one night and had to stop because it looked like Victor was going to faint after all, even though he’d been the one on top at the time.

Swearing was a terrible idea. Not only was it bound to give Victor the wrong idea, but he also didn’t want to accidentally teach him those words. There was always a chance he’d repeat them. And, as much as Yuuri didn’t care for swearing, there was something really wrong about Victor saying some of those words. Not all of them, but some of them, surely.

Victor pulled away and Yuuri gasped for air. He felt Victor’s hands slide gently from his hips to his chest.

“Yuuri,” he whispered.

He looked up into his face. “Whatever will you do with me now?” he whispered, slipping into Japanese as if by accident.

Victor merely smiled.

“Do you still have that pen?” Yuuri asked in English this time.

“W-why?” He must’ve asked the question automatically, because the answer had to be obvious. They’d already done this once, after all.

“So I can write an essay on the meaning of life on your ass, of course,” Yuuri answered.

Victor lowered his head onto Yuuri’s chest and slid a finger around in a circle over his skin. “I love you, Yuuri,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

 _Oh well, I guess that’s it for tonight’s entertainment, folks._ He smiled. “I love you too, husband.”

 

Yuuri woke up and took in the sleeping face of Victor Katsuki-Nikiforov lying beside him. At some point in the night they’d both turned over onto their sides and now he had a great view of the most beautiful face in the world. He felt his husband’s – what an idea! – arms around him.

Suddenly every little detail was important: the strands of hair spread over the pillow, the long trembling eyelashes, the big forehead, the steady breathing –

Yuuri smirked and shifted his hips closer.

– and everything below the waist.

He thought of Mila. She’d been there too with Sara by her side (damn them both!).

 

_They elbowed everyone out of the way to catch the flowers when Victor threw them. Yuuri watched it all with his arms crossed over his chest, his expression somewhere between disapproving and sarcastic._

_And, somehow, Yuri Plisetsky caught the bouquet._

_If there was one thing everyone agreed on it was that the looks on Mila and Sara’s faces were hilarious. Phichit was proud of the photo he managed to catch of them both._

 

Mila. Her manipulations had led to this. Who knew how long he and Victor would’ve gone on in circles around each other, like a dog chasing its tail, if she hadn’t stepped in?

And now he was married. Him! He stared at the ring on his finger. Yuuri Katsuki married. What a wild idea!

Well, he was Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov now and Yuuri Katsuki had simply ceased to exist, so that took care of that.

He turned away, freed himself from Victor’s embrace and sat up.

He sat at the edge of the bed and wondered if he wanted to get up, or if sitting up had been a bad idea to begin with. Maybe it would’ve been better to wait for Victor to wake up.

He felt Victor’s arms wrap around him.

“Yuuri…”

“Hmm?”

Victor slid his face against Yuuri’s back, rubbing his nose against it affectionately and kissed it. “Marry me again…”

Yuuri chuckled.

Victor’s hands were on Yuuri’s chest now. Down they went until their owner changed his mind and they travelled back up. They stopped at Yuuri’s nipples. Yuuri felt Victor’s thumbs rub against them and closed his eyes.

“Tomorrow,” Victor whispered, “we’ll leave for our honeymoon.”

Yuuri turned to face him. “Today you’re all mine,” he completed and caught Victor’s mouth in a kiss.

Victor dropped back onto the pillow, giggling between kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For bonus terrible points, pretend that this is chapter 69, not 59. Is it too late to insert 10 extra chapters just to get this awful joke? Yes, yes it is. If you don’t get this joke, that’s okay. It’s not that funny anyway.
> 
> One more chapter to go! I almost made it! Amazing!
> 
> ....and then I'll have a fic of all the little drabbles/ficlets/prompts/whatever you want to call them I wrote for this AU.


	60. Oh, I’m Looking, Alright!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick word of warning: for any of you who skipped the previous chapter there is 1 sentence in this chapter that I would say counts as explicit. Then again, maybe it's just me.

What better way to celebrate your honeymoon than by driving at well over the speed limit on your motorcycle with the love of your life right behind you? The wind blows in your face (or not, if your helmet covers you enough), the road ahead is empty and your husband is clinging onto you as tightly as he can (because otherwise he would fall off).

Yuuri grinned. This was the life and no mistake about it!

He pulled over by the side of the road when he started to feel fatigue creeping in. There was no point in overdoing it, not when he spotted a couple of benches overlooking a cliff that looked inviting.

Sure, they got married in St. Petersburg, but they were taking their honeymoon in Japan. His family had been thrilled. They’d thrown a whole party for them. All of Hasetsu had lain, drunk out of their wits for a week. Yuuri had a gap in his memory the size of two days. After a week of this he figured he’d had enough.

He’d done all the sappy things, like taking walks with Victor in a blooming garden, sitting on the beach and reminiscing about Victor’s first confession, and climbing to the top of Hasetsu castle while drunk (or so they told him afterwards, that was one of the things he’d supposedly done in that two day gap). It was time for a change of scenery.

They sat on the bench now. Victor held Yuuri’s hands as his eyes passed over the landscape. Yuuri shifted closer.

All that madness in Hasetsu meant they’d barely had any time alone together (or, if they did, he didn’t remember it). Oh, he didn’t mind kissing Victor in front of others. What he _did_ mind, however, was the incessant noise as everyone acted as if they had something urgent to tell Yuuri or Victor when he wanted them all to leave.

Yuuri slid one hand over Victor’s thigh and watched him blush.

“Look at this view, Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, sounding actually impressed by the sight of the sea and a few cliffs. No doubt, someone would’ve waxed poetic about it, getting all excited about a landscape, but he was perfectly happy looking the other way.

“Oh, I’m looking, alright!” Yuuri told him. Now his second hand was on Victor’s thigh.

Victor blushed. “I-I didn’t mean me…”

“Can you take your clothes off?”

“What? Now?” Victor exclaimed, blushing deeper.

“No one else here but us. I’ll even turn away while you do it,” he offered.

“Yuuri!” Victor exclaimed, turning bright red.

“I’m still waiting for a picture of you naked on my bike,” Yuuri told him, sliding his hands up and down Victor’s thighs and watching his reactions.

“Yuuri!” He reached out with both hands, but it wasn’t clear if he was trying to stop Yuuri’s hands or keep them going.

Yuuri leaned towards Victor’s ear and whispered something. They were words that had to be whispered. Just saying them wouldn’t have had the same effect. Then he moved back and took in Victor’s reaction.

“What if someone comes down this road?” Victor asked, covering his face as he realized that he was agreeing.

“I’ll find us a discreet spot, if you’re so worried.”

Victor grabbed Yuuri’s hands. “Is that the dirty thought you keep having about me?”

Yuuri burst out laughing. “Believe me, if I described every single dirty thought I’ve had about you, we’d be stuck here for at least a week.”

 

Afterwards they returned to the road, flushed and sweaty. Victor clung on tighter and Yuuri remained quiet.

He knew that Victor would like his idea. And he’d finally gotten the photo he’d wanted. He looked forward to Victor’s reaction when he found out that Yuuri had set that photo as the background on his phone. Here was something to scandalize the skating world further.

His ring, which he always wore over his leather glove, gleamed. Married? Hah! He’d show the world what the word meant! Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov never did things by halves!

They were on the road until the evening when Yuuri found the first place that offered a bed for the night and headed for it.

It was a small house that looked like it remembered a lot, but maybe not as much as the old lady that came out to greet them. They stared at her, wondering how she managed to walk without a cane.

“You’ll be staying here, then?” she said in a determined tone of voice.

“We will,” he said.

They spoke Japanese to each other, of course, and continued to do so as they walked in and the lady demonstrated the only room she had available. Yuuri translated everything they said for Victor’s benefit, wondering how much of it he understood. He knew Victor was trying to learn Japanese, but it seemed to be with limited luck so far.

Victor was his usual ecstatic self, enjoying everything and gripping Yuuri’s hand tightly as he pointed out whatever new and amazing thing caught his eye this time. He seemed to enjoy clinging to Yuuri’s side more than anything else. Maybe he thought it was something married couples had to do. Yuuri didn’t complain.

The lady didn’t stay long. As soon as they agreed on a price she left and they got the room all to themselves.

Normally this would’ve been an invitation to start something, but Yuuri was so exhausted that the moment he sat down, his body just dropped onto the bed and he was out.

 

He was awake. Very awake.

Victor’s hands were pressed against his chest, but they weren’t the reason he was awake, even if Victor had slipped them under Yuuri’s shirt so he could touch his bare skin, even if they were cold against Yuuri’s chest.

Victor’s legs were wrapped around him and even _that_ wasn’t the reason he was so awake.

Yuuri slid a hand over one thigh in the dark. Yes, just as he’d suspected: the living legend was asleep while completely naked. In the darkness of the room Yuuri imagined what it must look like. He’d made good use of his time with Victor and had every line of his body committed to memory.

 _Maybe not_ every _line,_ he corrected himself mentally.

He resisted the urge to pull Victor closer and tried to understand why he felt so awake.

All this had passed in a matter of seconds.

And then he heard it: there was something in the garden. Something that was coming. And it was coming for him.

And Snowflake was fast asleep.

He turned over gently so that Victor would be under him.

It came. It came with the sound of many running feet.

Slowly he pulled away from Victor and rose to his feet. He hunted around in the dark for a blanket to throw over Victor, for all the protection that would give him.

It was coming. It was almost there.

Had they been in a movie this would have been the moment when the background music would have come to a dramatic crescendo, complete with the beating of drums.

Yuuri got his gun out and waited.

The window swung open and someone burst into their room.

They probably thought they’d catch the two of them asleep. They probably thought “here’s an easy target, I’ll just barge into the room while they sleep and shoot them. Never mind the fact that I can use the door. No, I need to jump in through the window, coming at them like some sort of monster out of hell.”

In the dark it could’ve been a monster out of hell, for all Yuuri knew.

Whether or not it was out of hell was debatable, of course, but then, assuming hell _did_ exist, that was exactly where Yuuri had sent it, whatever it was.

He thought about dragging it out and burying it when they all came. All at once and with no warning.

Instead of fighting in the dark while his husband slept on, he grabbed said husband, wrapped him tighter in the blanket and made a run for it.

He had to fight them off with one hand as he carried Victor in the other, taking care his head was resting on his, that is Yuuri’s, shoulder. He didn’t bother counting how many shots he’d fired. He just headed straight for the bike, hoping they hadn’t been smart enough to damage it.

And, of course, when he ran out, it turned out that they had.

But they’d left their car conveniently for him. He dropped Victor into the back seat and fiddled with the car until he could get it to go. He pulled out just as they emerged from the house all at once.

“No time to stop for a chat,” he said as he accelerated. “Send me a postcard.” He debated making a gesture out the window at them, but figured they would only use it for target practice and even if their aim was bad, it wasn’t a risk he was prepared to take.

He threw a look at the back seat. Still Victor slept.

Victor slept all through the ride and didn’t wake up until the sun started to come up and Yuuri drove past the next big town on their way.

“Mmm… Yuuri…” Victor mumbled and turned over. “W-what? Where…?”

“We’ve been making out in the car all night long,” Yuuri said, “instead of the bedroom like normal people. You know: like teenagers sneaking around when they don’t want their parents to know. Or something.”

“What?”

Yuuri laughed and adjusted his rear view mirror. “Just teasing, Snowflake. Some bastards attacked us while we were sleeping, so I had to get us out of there as soon as possible. I left them our stuff as a souvenir.”

“I have no clothes!” Victor exclaimed, wrapping himself in the blanket.

“Do you want me to go back and get them?”

There was a long silence.

“You _do_ , don’t you?”

“N-no,” Victor protested and shifted forward. “Yuuri! You’re covered in blood.”

“It’s not mine,” he reassured Victor.

But Victor refused to accept that. He forced Yuuri to pull over, climbed out of the back seat, tied the blanket around his body and inspected Yuuri’s shoulder for wounds, making Yuuri pull his shirt off.

“If you want –” Yuuri winced.

“You’re hurt!” Victor exclaimed.

Yuuri put a hand around Victor’s waist and pulled him closer. “I’m just fine,” he insisted and kissed him.

A car went by on the road, making a lot of noise. Victor pulled away and turned around.

“Was that…?”

“Did the people who were chasing us just drive past us on the road, completely missing us?” Yuuri stood up. “Yes, they did. Do you know what that means?”

“That we’ll go back?” Victor suggested, circling the car.

“That they’re idiots,” Yuuri answered. But he went back anyway, even though he knew it was a bad idea. He went back because… well, because of the way Victor looked at him when he asked to go back.

And then he realized that he had to, or he had no way of getting back to St. Petersburg. Not legally and within the near future, anyway.

They hadn’t left anyone to guard the house. And they hadn’t bothered to do anything with Yuuri and Victor’s stuff.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met thugs dumber than this,” Yuuri said while Victor put his clothes on.

He watched Victor dress with a small nod of approval that Victor missed completely.

“Next time we’re somewhere suspicious sleep with your clothes on,” Yuuri added.

But Victor wasn’t listening. He sat Yuuri down, pulled a first aid kit out of his suitcase and bandaged the cut on his shoulder.

“You packed a first aid kit for our honeymoon?” Yuuri asked, unable to believe that Victor had actually sat down and thought about this.

“My Yuuri always gets into fights,” Victor said affectionately, sliding his hands down over Yuuri’s arm as he spoke and taking his hand with both of his own, “so I have to look after him and try to keep him out of trouble.”

“Really? And how do you plan to do that?” He laughed at the expression on Victor’s face. “And here I naïvely thought I was looking after you. What next, Snowflake? A big kiss for the hero of the hour? I _did_ just go and defeat all of the “bad guys” after all. Or outwitted them, at least.”

Victor leaned forward, resting one hand on Yuuri’s uninjured shoulder and planted a kiss on his cheek. “What do you think happened to the old lady?” he asked quietly, moving away and lowering his eyes.

Yuuri thought about this. He’d forgotten about her entirely. _That’s a good question. Not that I expect her to jump at me with a gun in her hand. Then again, stranger things have happened to me, so why not?_

“She probably works for them,” he finally said.

“What if she’s dead?” Victor asked. “If they killed her right before they tried to get us, what then?”

 _What does it matter? It’s not like we can bring her back to life!_ Victor’s question had caught him off guard and Yuuri gave him a puzzled look. “What then?”

“We should bury her, if she is,” Victor answered like a student who always had the correct answer for any question.

They searched the house together, but didn’t find her or her body anywhere. When they ran out of rooms, Victor leaned against the wall and sighed in relief.

“Can we go now?” Yuuri asked. _I have no interest in doing community service work._

Victor nodded.

The rest of their honeymoon was surprisingly devoid of corpses as well as people actively trying to kill them.

And then it was back to St. Petersburg and the regular daily life for the Katsuki-Nikiforovs full of mundane everyday things like skating and murder.

 

They were sitting on the couch, watching TV that afternoon. To be fair, he was watching it. Yuuri sat with his head on Victor’s shoulder and his arms around him. Victor was starting to suspect that he’d fallen asleep. Sometimes Yuuri did when they were watching something really boring and sometimes he just pretended that he was asleep. Right until the moment when his hands were slipping into Victor’s clothes.

He was feeling nervous about the upcoming competition, as if he was his first time going out on the ice in front of the judges. It _wasn’t_ his first time, he tried to tell himself, not really.

They’d just had lunch and Victor was starting to feel a little thirsty. He shifted forward a little and Yuuri stirred.

“I’m going to get a drink,” he said in an apologetic tone. “Do you want anything?”

Yuuri raised his head and suddenly his lips were much closer to Victor’s ear than he’d been prepared for. “Yeah,” he said, “I want to suck your dick.”

Victor felt all the blood rush to his face. “O-okay…” he stammered out.

Yuuri pulled away and Victor stared at him, waiting to see what he would do next. Had he just teased him? Was that just another one of his jokes? Was it him being sarcastic? Or had he changed his mind?

But, no, he merely turned, raised one eyebrow and said, “Well?”

Victor lay down onto his back before he even got a chance to think about what he was going to do. He placed his head on the sofa’s armrest and pulled his legs up to him.

And then Yuuri’s head was there between his legs. He caught the top of his pants with his teeth and for one wild moment Victor thought Yuuri would chew through them. Victor breathed heavily as he watched Yuuri slide one hand over him right between his legs and then catch the zipper to undo it, sliding the hand back down over the same spot. Sweat poured over his skin as Yuuri tugged his pants down.

“Honestly,” Yuuri muttered once his mouth was free of the zipper, “this is so annoying.”

“W-what is?” Victor gasped out.

“Pulling your pants off.” He smirked. “I suppose I don’t have to take them off all the way.”

Yuuri ended up in a tangle of Victor’s legs, pants and his own arms. He’d pulled the underwear just far enough down and then stuck his head in between it and Victor in such a way that, from the right angle, it looked like he was wearing Victor’s underwear on his head. If Victor hadn’t been so overwhelmed in that moment by a different feeling, he would’ve laughed at how funny Yuuri looked.

Instead, he gasped as Yuuri got what he wanted.

It had been cold in their apartment, but now he wouldn’t have been surprised if someone told him that the windows were fogging up.

He could feel Yuuri’s hands gripping his hips, which always excited him even more, no matter how many times Yuuri did it.

A moan escaped his lips. “Yuuri…”

Yuuri, his dear husband Yuuri, was taking his time and enjoying himself. And, just briefly, he could feel Yuuri’s teeth brush against his skin. He was going to faint. Oh god! After all this time he was still going to faint because of something Yuuri did!

Just as he thought the world was starting to fade Yuuri pulled away and looked into Victor’s face. “I think I’m satisfied for now.” His hands slid back and forth over Victor’s skin as he spoke.

Victor gasped for air.

“Are _you_ satisfied, Snowflake?”

“Yes…” he breathed out. _How can I_ not _be?_

“Really? No “do it again, Yuuri” or even “my turn now”?” he asked. He was still so close. The underwear slipped down to Victor’s knees.

“A-anything you want…” he managed to stammer out after a few gasps.

Yuuri chuckled, bent down and kissed Victor’s stomach. “We’ll need the bedroom for that,” he said, slid his lips a little way against Victor’s skin and then raised his head again with that glint in his eyes.

Victor swallowed and nodded.

“But, first, I’ll get you that drink,” Yuuri promised.

He lay with a lost look on his face as Yuuri pulled free and went to the kitchen. He returned soon enough with a cup of water in his hand.

Victor sat up, his face still red. He reached out for the cup and drank.

Yuuri crouched down at Victor’s knees and pulled Victor’s pants and underwear off completely. And then he reached up and brushed Victor’s hair out of his face.

The cup was empty now. He looked down at it. For some reason, his mouth was still dry.

“I’ll get you more water,” Yuuri promised, taking the cup out of his hand.

And, to Victor’s surprise, Yuuri did. He made several trips to the kitchen before Victor finally told him he wasn’t thirsty anymore.

He expected Yuuri to pick him up and carry him to the bedroom, but, instead, Yuuri dropped down to sit at his feet. He put his hands on Victor’s knees and rested his head on them. “Do you want anything else?” he asked softly, looking up into his face.

Victor pulled his fingers through Yuuri’s hair. “No, I have everything I want.”

 

Victor stood on the ice in front of Yakov, his eyes on his hands as he tried to focus on the words his coach was saying, but they were determined to enter through one ear and leave by the other without giving him a chance to understand what they meant. It really felt like his first competition out on the ice. God, that had been an entire lifetime ago! He could barely remember anything about it, apart from one very important detail. One big difference between his situation back then and the one he was in now.

Lilia was adding her own words of encouragement now. She’d choreographed this routine. After a long argument with everyone involved she won and got her own way. That had been Yakov’s condition, after all: if he was to be the coach, Lilia would be the choreographer. This meant that everything would be taken seriously, there couldn’t be any joke elements and even the choice of the music was left up to her.

Yuuri fought for every inch and lost, but Victor suspected that he didn’t mind it all that much.

They were back together now. Yakov and Lilia, that is. It hadn’t come as a surprise to anyone, though, at least not to any of the skaters on the Russian team. It couldn’t have surprised anyone who’d seen the two of them dance at Yuuri and Victor’s wedding. Victor had had his eyes on Yuuri at all times, of course, but even he’d seen the long slow dance those two had had and the way they’d looked at each other.

 

_One morning Yakov arrived at practice with Lilia by his side and a little smile on his face. They were both wearing their wedding rings again. Practice that day was conflict free, even though Yuuri seemed determined to push all of Yakov’s buttons. Yakov had finally learned how to handle Yuuri’s rebellious spirit, even though it had come at a great cost to him: he barely had any hair left._

_Yuuri flirted with Victor shamelessly, dropping innuendoes at every opportunity, but the Russian team had already gotten used to it. He did get into an argument with Yuri, but that one didn’t last long and was only half-hearted anyway._

_And Victor found that his own heart sang louder than ever that day._

_At his suggestion, they all went out for ice cream together afterwards. He rested his head on Yuuri’s shoulder while Mila talked about her wedding plans and Yuuri dropped jokes into his ear and fed him half of his own ice cream._

_It was one of the happiest days of his life._

 

He took a deep breath. It was time.

“Introducing: Victor Nikiforov, 6-time world champion, 5-time grand prix champion, 6-time European champion…”

He raised his head and gave his husband a look. “Yuuri, this is all your fault, isn’t it?” he asked as the commentator went on, listing his titles.

Yuuri smirked. “It is. Except I’ll have to skin the bastard, because he still can’t get our last name right!” He paused, listened to the commentator go on and shook his head. “And now he’s talking about some guy named Yuuri Katsuki! Who the hell is he?”

“But… you…”

Yuuri took his hand. “Ready, husband?”

Victor nodded and they skated out onto the middle of the ice, their hands raised in greeting.

The audience cheered for them happily.

They stopped in the middle of the ice and lowered their heads onto each other’s shoulders.

Any minute now the music would start to play.

Victor felt his heart beat faster. Could he do it? Could he skate with Yuuri and not mess everything up? He couldn’t let him down, not after he’d insisted they do this. He couldn’t be the reason they both missed an entire skating season. Wasted an entire skating season.

“Their sound system broke down. The judges are all cranky and sleep-deprived. The audience hates us and, actually, neither of us can skate worth a damn,” Yuuri muttered into his ear, “so stop worrying.”

The first notes began to play and Yuuri skated away from Victor, circled him and broke out into the step sequence he was so good at. Victor skated towards him and took his hands.

And they were off across the ice together.

 

Lilia hadn’t gone easy on them. She’d watched their separate skates and their exhibition programs together closely (going over the recording until she’d memorized it, or so Yuuri suspected) and figured out exactly what their strengths and weaknesses were. Anyone else would’ve aimed for their strengths, but she challenged them by throwing them outside their comfort zone.

Add to that the difficult piece of music she’d picked out for them as well as the lyrical nature of the program that drove Yuuri livid and the end result was a nightmare of a program. Two programs.

For the first one Yuuri was stuck playing the lovesick fool while Victor had to play someone who was hard to impress. It was some sort of twisted joke, Yuuri just knew it.

But Victor was so nervous all of a sudden. He, the 6-time world champion, was terrified and unsure about going out and competing in pair skating for the first time in his life. He’d spent the day staring at his feet or his hands. Sometimes he looked ready to cry. Yuuri teased Victor as best as he could and dropped innuendoes on him that once resulted in him choking on his drink.

But out here on the ice the whole world went soft. Or, rather, Yuuri went soft.

Suddenly every lift was delicate, as if Victor was a person made out of glass that Yuuri was afraid to drop.

They’d pulled through all the hardships that year had thrown at them. They were together. They were still here. And they were damn well going to keep being here.

He tried to communicate all this with a look and got a faint smile in exchange.

And, _of course_ , now he was remembering their first days together a whole year ago. Who had really chased and won who over?

He raised Victor up so he could strike a nice pose and found that he didn’t care for the scores at all.

_Give me last place, if you want. I actually don’t care. I’ve either lost or won the most important competition in my life and until I work out which it is, everything else doesn’t really matter._

There was that bit near the end when they went around the rink, their palms pressed together, eyes locked, as the rest of the world became nothing more than a backdrop.

They’d done something like that once a long time ago, hadn’t they? Wasn’t there a wild pre-historic time when Yuuri hadn’t been in love with Victor? Had there really been a time like that? Hadn’t they loved each other since the dawn of time, or something? Wasn’t that what most stories would have you believe? Love at first sight and all that nonsense?

There was that smile again. Everyone smiled (or mostly everyone, anyway), but what was it about Victor’s smile that made Yuuri’s insides go off and compete in a skating competition of their own?

Lilia – damn that woman! – had come up with a suitably cheesy ending for their skate. As the music faded away, they slowed down, stopped, put their foreheads together and tried to win the most convincing statue of the year award, while trying to catch their breath.

Victor gripped Yuuri’s hands tighter.

The last note was still playing and already the fans were screaming their heads off.

That was another change that happened in the months that followed their official announcement that they would compete in pair skating. After all the arguments and fights between their fans, after all the hype over who would win at World’s, they had to face the inevitable and join the same cult – group, that is – and root for both of them. What a hard life it was to be a fan!

Victor kissed Yuuri’s hand.

“You missed,” Yuuri said. “Try that again,” and pointed at his mouth.

 

_“Why did you decide to compete in pair skating after so many years in men’s figure skating?” one reporter asked._

_“Well, it’s like the old saying, isn’t it?” Yuuri said, reclining in his chair and watching Victor blush before he’d even said anything. “If you can’t beat them, join them.”_

_“Are you admitting that Victor is the better skater out of the two of you, then?”_

_Yuuri laughed. “Better skater?” He watched Victor blush deeper._ God, you actually know what’s going through my mind right now, don’t you? Have we achieved old married couple status already? Does this mean that you’ll always know what I’m going to say before I say it? I guess we won’t have to talk anymore. We’ll just communicate telepathically. Should be very efficient. And kind of boring.

_“He beat me at World’s,” Yuuri said. “I can’t argue with that, now can I?”_

_“In our experience,” one of the reporters said between laughs, “you can argue with anything.”_

_“Ah, well, you have me confused with someone else. I don’t argue at all. I’m very good at admitting I’m wrong and submitting to someone else’s wishes,” he watched Victor blush even deeper._ Really? Even that? You have a dirty mind, Snowflake.

_He sat up straighter and opened his mouth to add another comment and noticed that Victor was reading something on his phone. He shifted closer and his eye fell on the screen and he caught the words “wedding photos”._

Ah. Figures. Just when I was starting to feel proud of myself!

_It occurred to him that he’d spent an entire interview answering all of the questions while Victor – he read the rest of the text on the screen – texted Mila about their wedding photos. Or possibly her wedding photos. It didn’t really matter._

_He ended the interview there and then teased Victor about it the rest of the evening._

 

They returned to the kiss and cry and sat between Yakov and Lilia. Victor fidgeted nervously. He’d wanted to compete in pair skating so badly, but in the last few days he was starting to have second thoughts.

Was it right to do this? He’d pulled Yuuri out of competitions he had every chance of winning just to satisfy his whim.

Victor didn’t care how this would reflect on his own career. When the reporters came to him, asking if he was worried about ruining his status as the living legend, the question had puzzled him.

“No,” he’d answered truthfully.

But Yuuri…

He sighed.

Someone raised his foot and he realized that Yuuri was on one knee next to him, Victor’s right foot in both of his hands and a smirk on his face as he leaned down and kissed his skate.

Victor’s head was spinning. Did Yuuri feel like this when he’d kissed his skate a year ago? Had he really done that? Where did he get the courage to do something as mad as that? He smiled weakly at Yuuri. It was a good thing he was sitting down, because otherwise he would’ve fallen over from sheer embarrassment.

Yuuri opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the commentator. “The judges are about to post their scores for Victor Katsuki and Yuuri Nikiforov!”

 _Did he just say Victor Katsuki?_ Victor wondered.

Yuuri chuckled and slipped onto the bench next to Victor. “Close, but no cigar,” he murmured.

The audience roared. Both skaters looked at the display.

What would they get? Would they even make it into the top six? Or would they have to try harder in their free skate?

Yakov muttered something and Lilia agreed, but Victor didn’t catch what had been said. He was staring at the numbers on the screen and then he was staring at Yuuri.

And Yuuri was staring back.

“I’m going to skate with you forever,” Yuuri told him and suddenly the scores didn’t matter.

“Me too,” Victor whispered and leaned in for a kiss.

“And the scores for Victor Katsuki and Yuuri Nikiforov are…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, this turned into a really long fic! (so here’s a long author’s note to go with it) I honestly didn’t think it’d be this long! When I set off in the beginning, I didn’t really have a detailed plan for what I would write. I only had this vague sense of some in between bits, because I knew I wanted them to move to Russia and skate against each other, and I had some ideas for bits of the ending. If someone had told me back then it would be this long, I would’ve laughed at them. This is the longest thing I’ve ever written (for now, at least). Dear people who write 100k+ fics regularly, I take my hat off to you. You are hard workers!  
> I also find it mildly frightening that I’ve been writing this since April (or posting it since April, I don’t actually remember when I started writing it, maybe March?). I’m going to miss this fic. But soon there will be a separate one for prompts for this AU and I’ll probably leave that one open for a while. I’m putting together a playlist for this fic, roughly based on each chapter and I’m still a bunch of songs short, so recommendations are welcome!  
> I should probably also confess that I did some experimenting with my writing style and some of it might have gone off the rails a bit just to match Yuuri’s attitude.  
> Anyway, a big THANK YOU to everyone who read, left kudos and commented! Double thank you to those who’ve been here from the beginning! You have amazing patience! Also a double thank you to anyone who commented on every (or almost) every chapter. If you managed to do both, then you get lots of bonus points. You are my heroes. I am forever grateful, because you were the ones who kept me going.  
> And if this fic made you smile or laugh, if it made your day at least a little better, then I achieved my goal!
> 
> Wondering what next? Well, I have a couple of ongoing fics and I need to write a couple of Christmas fics for exchanges. But I hope that around New Year’s I will finally post chapter 1 of New Year’s Phone Call. (Because with a title like that and it being December already how can I not? Haha)


End file.
